


Stand a Little Rain

by bluetoast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if everything depended on a single, simple choice? Right after Sam left for Stanford and John took off for hunts unknown, Dean met up with a man in the middle of the afternoon over lunch - and they elected to spend the rest of the day (and night) together. Should have been a simple one night stand for Dean and Gabriel - except Gabriel forgot one thing in the heat of the moment - there are times when angels can impregnate a human, regardless of their gender. When he realized the possibility - he went to find Dean. When he found him, Gabriel decided that the best thing to do for everyone is to stop the whole Apocalypse cold. Unfortunately, he didn't count on Michael having an issue with his little brother playing house with his true vessel and their half-angelic daughter, Sara. </p><p>
  <b>Written for the 2012 Gabriel Big Bang</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The only people who frequented bars in the middle of the day with the express purpose of drinking themselves stupid were drunks. Dean didn't like to think of himself as a drunk. He was only six months into being able to legally drink, but he'd been imbibing liquor six years before that. Getting falling down drunk wasn't an option right now. He just needed the smoky atmosphere and the wonder of pub-grub. The only trouble was, he'd sat almost motionless at the bar for so long, his beer had gone warm and his onion rings were cold. He took a sip from the warm bottle and grimaced at the taste. The woman behind the bar looked to be close to his age, but the diamond on the ring finger of her left hand told Dean she was off limits. He ran a hand through his short hair, debating if he should just toss a ten on the polished wooden surface and get the hell out of town or sit here until happy hour.

Sam was gone. Dean knew that his brother was California bound, but a small part of him had been hoping that his brother would suggest they leave together. Of course Dad would never let the two of them go – hell, it was a miracle that Sam got out. Dean tried not to feel any jealously on his brother's part, but Sam could have at least let him drive him to Stanford. A few more days, that's all Dean wanted. Sam hadn't even said goodbye to him. He'd just walked out, duffel over his shoulder and no looking back. You think there would have been a glance back, something. Instead, there had been nothing. Dean knew that Sam was angry with their dad, but him? After all they'd been through – after all these years, there hadn't even been a look. 

Dad was gone. Dad left shortly after Sam did. After saying that Dean wasn't going to be strong enough to kill the demon they'd been hunting for eighteen years. If that wasn't a slap in the face, Dean didn't know what was. Dad had always pushed Dean harder than Sam. Made him tougher, made him grow up far too fast with no regard for what Dean wanted. Dean, being Dean, just took it and tried to please his father. It was no good. It was never good enough. Dean didn't know if it would ever be good enough. Dad had left without a good bye either and hadn't even said anything about where he was going, what was going on. Even now, two days later, he still wasn't sure what hurt more; his dad more or less calling him a weak coward or leaving him without a word. 

Dean had always believed that if the three of them, he, Sam and Dad stayed together, if they stayed a _family_ things would be okay, somehow. So they wouldn't be apple pie and picket fences, but family was what kept him going. He'd never spoken of how much he hated moving around all the time, of never staying in one place very long - but they always did it together. They were so far from the perfect family, but really, they did have each other, and some families didn't even have that. Dean had known what his role in the family was, and that was to be the stable one - the one Dad counted on to follow orders without question and to fill in all the roles for Sam that Dad seemed unwilling or unable to fulfill. The trouble was, by the time Dad was ready to start being a father to Sam, Sam would have none of it. Sam had left out of the need to be free from Dad's rules and orders. Dad had left because he couldn't keep his family together. The two of them had both taken off, leaving the third member behind. Dean, who had done everything he could for Sam and followed nearly every order his father gave him. His reward for his unwavering loyalty was abandonment, like some dog who was no longer wanted because he'd passed the puppy stage. 

The sound of a stool scraping across the wood floor caused Dean to snap from his musings and look up as a man, shorter and older than he was sat down at the bar, looking pretty much the same way he felt. Apart from the worn expression on his face, the guy wasn't bad looking at all. Since he'd done his best to hide the fact that he swung both ways from his dad, Dean had learned the art of getting a good look at first glance without risking the other party noticing when they were men. 

“Oh, you're back again.” The bartender spoke to the man in a tone that said he was probably a regular. “The usual?”

“That would be great, Iris, thanks.” The man smiled in response and Dean turned back to his warm beer and cold onion rings his mind already shifting away from the newcomer until he heard him speak again. “And I think our stranger down there needs a top off of your famous onion rings.”

Dean turned towards the man. “What?”

The man grinned, probably the first genuine smile Dean had seen all week. “Good as they are, the rings in this place are never good cold.”

“Yeah, they are pretty good. Just not been very hungry lately.” Dean took a sip from his bottle as Iris put a glass in front of the man and took Dean's basket away.

“I'll give these another run through the fryer along with some more.” Iris gave him a comforting smile. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

Dean turned to the man. “Guess you come here pretty often.”

“I try and come here at least every other week. This place has the only veggie burger in the world that I'll eat.” He grinned. “Don't mistake me for a vegetarian, but sometimes you just have to eat outside of your comfort zone.”

Dean figured a conversation about food, even with a guy, would be better than sitting here brooding. “I know what you mean. I hate vegetables, unless I go to an Indian or Thai buffet. Not to mention that naan bread they have at Indian food places is incredible.”

The man smiled wistfully. “Yeah. Indian food is amazing. Particularly in India.”

“I'll take your word for it, I've never been.” 

Iris returned to the bar, setting down Dean's basket of rings and the stranger's basket of a veggie burger and a mountain of fries. “There you boys go.” She turned to Dean. “You need another beer?”

“I'm still good, thanks.” 

The man took a swig from his own bottle. “So how about them Yankees?”

Dean snorted as he picked up the ketchup bottle. “I think we're in the part of the country where you're supposed to hate, loathe and despise the Yankees, even if you don't.”

“Good point.” The man upended the mustard bottle on his bun. “I'm a Red Sox fan myself.”

“I converted to being a Cardinals fan some time in the middle of the last decade. Though I don't think either of our teams will be seeing the World Series this October.” He picked up the largest of the onion rings in his basket and ate it.

“You never know, stranger things had happened.” The man brushed his fingers with a napkin and checked behind him. Dean guessed he was looking for Iris before he spoke again. “I'm going to ask you something and if you're offended by it, feel free to dump the rest of your beer over my head and walk out. I'll pick up your tab and I won't follow you.”

Dean stared at the man, dumbfounded. “Don't tell me you're trying to pick me up at...” He looked at his watch. “Two o'clock in the afternoon?”

The man didn't even look embarrassed, he just pursed his lips, tilted his head and then answered him. “Well, it would save us both the trouble of having to come back out and find someone later.”

“That's a good point. But there's a very big problem.”

“What's that?” He took a sip from his beer.

“I have no idea what your name is and I don't want to be called Freckles for the rest of the day.” Dean saw the man's expression start to turn into a more positive smile. “We can just keep it to first names, if you prefer.”

“Not the slightest. I'm Gabriel. If you want to call me Gabe, that's fine.” 

“Gabe, huh?” Dean grinned. “That's one I've not heard before. I'm Dean.”

**

Gabriel rested his head against the spot between Dean's shoulder-blades, listening to the man's soft snores. They'd come back to Dean's motel room – dingy as it was – and they'd stayed in bed for hours. It'd been so long since he'd entered a mating heat that he was positive that it'd been a good thing he'd run into someone who was at least willing to come to bed with him. He knew what had happened with the Winchesters, of course. Samuel had left his family – but he hadn't counted on John abandoning his oldest and most loyal son. He had felt Dean's pain when he sat down, that horrible, abandoned feeling that he recognized all to well. 

He himself was still waiting for one of his brothers or sisters to come and ask him to come home. He wouldn't go back on his own, that was for certain. It wouldn't matter, he'd slipped in and out of Heaven so many times in the past millennium that no one had even noticed if he was there or not. Perhaps that was the thing that hurt the most. The fact that no one seemed to care that he was gone. Oh, he'd told his dad as much when he ran into him – he too, was hiding here on Earth. He said it was part of the plan – and that the plan was changing. How, he'd refused to say. 

He didn't blame Dean for his exhaustion. They'd had sex for hours. The last time had been shortly after one in the morning and he was surprised the man had any strength left at that time. Gabriel ran his hand down Dean's side, hugging him to him as he kissed the back of the man's neck as he felt him start to wake up. “Good morning, Freckles.”

Dean winced. “Whoa... I don't think I'll be able to walk for a while.”

He chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“Take it as you want.” Dean rolled over so they were forehead to forehead. “How long did we sleep?”

“Total hours or since we had that pizza and got back into bed or since I last made you fall apart?”

“Last time.” He gave Gabriel a lazy kiss on the lips. “For the record, I don't think I've come so many times in one day in my life.”

“Well, that's a nice ego booster.” He kissed Dean's nose. “Five hours, give or take thirty minutes.”

“Wow.” He rolled back onto his back. “That was infinitely better than getting drunk, I know that too.”

Gabriel sat up, chuckling. “You want to go get some breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes, not seeing the smile that Gabriel gave him. “Waffle House?”

“Sure.” 

*

Gabriel leaned against the side of the building, watching the Impala drive off down the road, the enormity of what he had just done had started to sink in. He had just spent his first mating heat in eons sleeping with a Winchester. Not just any Winchester, but _Dean_ Winchester. His eldest brother's chosen vessel. He wouldn't have to worry about Lucifer killing him at this point, Michael would probably do it in a heartbeat. Well, if any of his three brothers showed up, he'd shiv all three of their asses. Michael didn't know how to ease up, Raphael didn't know how to shut up and Luci didn't know how to grow up. So now, here he was, walking around alone on Earth, disguising himself as Loki for most of the time. He'd knocked more people off the ten-most wanted list than he cared to remember and had caused enough 'accidents' to abusive parents, partners and pet owners that he could create a drinking game from it. 

He regretted nothing about yesterday. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Dean didn't know what he really was – just as Dean had no idea about his destiny. What he really hadn't wanted to do was let Dean go. He wanted to keep the man safe, he wanted to change the man's future. Hell would break him and being a vessel for Michael would destroy him. There would be nothing left but a shell that wouldn't know how to enjoy the most simple things in life. The sheer injustice of it made Gabriel furious. If there was a way to keep Dean with him, he'd do it. But that would require a long explanation and Dean wasn't quite ready for the truth just yet. 

Hopefully John Winchester would wise the fuck up by the end of September and apologize for shoving his eldest away from him.

Gabriel stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walked away from the restaurant, vanishing from sight as soon as he went down the small incline it stood at the top of.

**

Dean tied the bandanna around his head a little tighter as he picked up an empty bushel and headed back over to the area where he'd been working. Texas in the summer was an oven. Dad hadn't been in contact for a while, not even with Pastor Jim. Dean figured he was off wondering how to nab Sam from Palo Alto and then he'd call, or something. He rubbed his face and went back to picking the nearly-ripe tomatoes off the plants and putting them into his basket. It was grueling, backbreaking work – but it was also seven bucks an hour. Since the man who owned the farm had so many people Dean _knew_ weren't American citizens, everyone, even people like him, were paid in cash. True, hustling pool garnered more money in one night than he made in two days, but there wasn't a tab to be paid at the end of the day and secondly, he didn't have to worry about getting mugged by someone who didn't like to lose. 

“You taken a break yet?” The foreman, Charlie Grange, came by Dean's work area.

“Huh?” Dean leaned around the plant he was working on. 

“Break, Winchester. You taken one yet?”

“Little while ago, something wrong?”

“No...” He paused and looked at something on the horizon. “Ah shit, not again.”

“What?”

“Cops. Anyone asks for your papers, you know what to do.”

“Why would I need papers? I was born in Kansas.” Dean plucked another fruit and added it to his basket.

“That's right, I knew there were a few Americans in this field.” He hurried away, heading for the truck where two uniformed cops had just gotten out of a patrol car. 

Dean shook his head and then heard a low whistle from somewhere to his left and then there was the sound of running. “It's a long way back to Mexico from San Antonio.” He said under his breath and went back to work. He dropped the last nearly-ripe tomato to make the bushel full and then hefted it up and headed towards the truck. 

“Dean.” Charlie said as he put the basket down. “You seen Pedro?”

He blinked. “Uh, Pedro? I don't think I've seen him today.”

The cops exchanged glances. “You sure about that?” The taller of the two asked.

“Pretty sure – it's Tuesday. Pedro always brings these really amazing doughnuts on Tuesday. I didn't see any this morning, so I'm guessing he's not here today.” This was the truth – almost. Pedro had come to work this morning and apologized for the lack of the treat, stating that his wife was too busy making tamales for her sister's wedding to make the doughnuts. 

The cop wrote something down. “Was he here yesterday?”

“Dean wasn't here yesterday.” Charlie spoke up. “Day off.” He frowned. “Food poisoning, wasn't it?”

“Some kind of twenty-four hour bug.” Dean answered. “Or it was minor heat exhaustion.” He looked from his boss to the cops. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, we're good.” The second cop replied just as another worker came up with a full bushel. “Who are you?” 

The man blinked. “I'm Hector.” He replied, he glanced at Dean once before he turned to the cops. “Can I help you?”

Dean picked up another empty basket and headed back to work. He could hear Hector replying that he'd not seen Pedro today either, stating he'd started work late. He set the bushel down, grimacing as his stomach gave another unsettled rumble. “Maybe it's a thirty-six hour thing.” He took a swig of water from his bottle and rested for a moment before resuming his work.

**

Dean spent a month picking crops in Texas. It was nearly September and the stomach flu wouldn't completely leave. He'd tried to chalk it up to heat exhaustion, but after taking two days off and spending those days in a near to freezing cold motel room, it was still hanging on. He had no idea were his dad was, when it came to checking in, Dean called Pastor Jim. Pastor Jim hadn't heard from Dad either, so, from what he could surmise, the man had gone off on a bender hunt and would resurface in a few more weeks, full of his usual piss and vinegar. He tried to remember when he'd started to feel rotten, but it was hard. He hadn't felt good since Sam left him and dad – and he'd felt sick since roughly two weeks after that. He might have chalked it up to withdraw from alcohol, but the affects couldn't last this long.

Cold dread suddenly filled him. The guy in the bar – Gabriel? They'd spent _hours_ having sex in that motel room. What if Gabriel wasn't something entirely human? Or worse, what if he'd gotten some horrific disease? 

*

After going through a slew of medical textbooks and websites, Dean was able to eliminate maladies one at a time. He supposed that was the good news – the bad news was, the symptoms he kept listing kept coming up 'unknown' until he switched the profile from 'male' to 'female' and _then_ he'd gotten a different result from his search. He didn't know how it was even possible – or if it was going to be the result the websites and books kept telling him, but if it was – he had no idea what he was going to do. He wasn't going to go to a doctor, that was for damn sure. 

Dean set the test strip down on the counter, his hands shaking as he washed them. The box he'd purchased said it would take up to three minutes to give him results. He sat down on the closed toilet seat, holding onto his knees to keep himself from grabbing the strip and watching it. If he'd gotten knocked up by something supernatural, he knew he was in for it. He knew that Gabriel couldn't be a demon, since he'd stepped over the salt lines with no problem. That actually eliminated a long list of possible monsters. How exactly Gabriel had gotten him pregnant, he had no idea. Well, lots of sex was a good way to do it, but seriously – what sort of creature could give you the equipment to have a baby and you not really notice at the time? He was about to just grab up the strip and wait for it to declare his fate when his cell phone went off, making him jump. “Shit.” He left the bathroom, hurried over to the bedside table and grabbed the phone up. “Yes?”

“You are supposed to answer on the second ring, Dean. It rang four times before you answered it.” John's voice was full of controlled anger.

“I was taking a piss.” Dean sat down on the bed. 

“Never mind. Answer on the second ring from now on.” 

Dean bit back the comment of wanting to ask what to do if he was asleep or going seventy miles down the interstate. “I will do my best, sir.”

“See that you do.” John cleared his throat. “I need you to get your ass down to Gainesville. I need your help.”

“Gainesville? Florida?”

“Do you know of another one? I need you here ASAP.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing himself to lie to his father. “I'm in the middle of a case, Dad. I can't really leave it just yet.”

“Hurry it up, whatever it is. How soon can you be here?”

“I don't know, sir. I'm clear up near Vancouver.”

“Shit.” The man cursed under his breath. “Get here as soon as you can.”

“I don't know how much longer this hunt is going to take me.” Dean stood up and went to the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “A few days, at the very least.”

“Try and do the best you can and I know you'll get here soon. You ain't been bugging your brother, have you?”

“No sir. I've been trying to avoid the state of California as a whole.”

“Good boy. Just try and get down here by the weekend. I will call if I finish this hunt before you get here.”

“Yes, sir.” He realized in that moment he wasn't too sure about what day of the week it was. He was about to ask where in Gainesville should they meet up when the line cut off. Dean looked at the phone in his hand for a moment, the pain from May starting to creep up on him again. “Yeah. Nice to hear your voice too.” He set the phone back down and, after taking a gulp of water, he headed back to the bathroom.

“Wish I was in Vancouver. It's probably a hell of a lot cooler than Tucson.” He took another sip of water as he picked up the test strip. A moment later, the bottle fell from Dean's grip as he stared in utter shock at the small test strip in his hand – a strip bearing two blue lines.

He was pregnant. 

Dean slumped down to the floor, completely oblivious to the puddle of water he was sitting in. He couldn't go to Florida, not now. He swallowed and gently set a hand against his stomach. 

A baby. He was fucking pregnant with Gabriel's – whatever the hell he was – baby.

“Guess it's a good thing I've not touched booze, huh, little one?” He picked up the half-spilled bottle, cleaned off the opening with his shirt tail and took a long swallow. “Don't you worry... I'll take care of everything. We're going to be just fine.” He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, the faint notion of holding his baby in his arms. Oddly enough, he actually felt _happy_ about the fact he was pregnant. Dean smiled, moving his hand over his stomach. For some unexplained reason, he wasn't afraid of the baby, even though he probably should be. Besides, it wasn't the baby's fault. “Let's see... if I'm counting the months right, you'll be joining me in March.” He took another sip of water. “I don't care if you're a boy or a girl, I just hope you're healthy – and human.” 

He closed his eyes, still clinging to that notion. First order of business: find out what non-demonic creature was capable of impregnating a human male – and second, don't let Dad find out.

Dean wasn't stupid – Dad would most likely just stab him straight in the gut if he knew what Dean had just learned. 

**

Gabriel knew that the evil that stirred in mankind had woken up with a roaring anger on a sunny Tuesday morning in September. He'd heard the other angels talking. It was a sign, a sign that the end was finally beginning. He had to wonder how many angels were going around with their heads literally in the clouds to so easily forget what happened half a century ago in Europe. If it hadn't been strictly forbidden, a certain dictator in Germany would have been torn apart by a combination of rats, bees and camel spiders. And that would have been merciful to things Gabriel could think up on a day he wasn't at the top of his game. It was one thing to look down and see what was going on down here on Earth. It was another thing to see it first hand. He'd spent most of the Second World War in England, helping out in small ways. Protecting children sent away from London, stopping a gas leak in a bomb shelter one night during a horrific air raid – simple things for an archangel, and he was able to pass through the years unnoticed. 

No other angels had taken off from Heaven lately, other than Anna, who had fallen almost twenty years ago and was currently experiencing the joys that were high school. Gabe had spent a week in a high school once – and it was like being a tank full of piranhas. There were so many people who needed to be knocked down a few pegs – and a few who needed to be locked up in jail – that the best he could do without bringing up suspicion was to permanently jinx the worst offenders. Scholarships vanished, athletic abilities failed and led to horrible, career ending injuries – really, that jock on that basketball team had it coming. Molesting his younger stepsister and her friends and then threatening them? The guy was lucky to end up with just a limp and a shrunken dick – instead of getting eaten by lions that escaped from a circus. Gabriel didn't want to leave the bastard in some kind of situation where he could somehow turn into a hero.

The world was starting to tumble down towards the Apocalypse, completely oblivious. There wasn't a high ranking angel who didn't know how the plan was supposed to work. Azazel had to get Lilith out of Hell. Lilith would break the Seals, the Winchesters would be meat suits and fight the epic battle of good versus evil. End of story. Gabriel hated the plan. He'd love to put an end to it, to derail it, to delay it – to do _something_ to prevent it. Trouble was, he was just one lone archangel and well, Michael had the Host following him and Raphael with blind obedience and Lucifer had his denizens and demons worshiping him and waiting to obliterate mankind when the time came. Either way, humanity would pass away into ashes and neither side seemed to really care.

Gabriel cared. 

Gabriel cared because he'd been down here all this time. He'd seen what good mankind was capable of, their potential, and most of all, the thing that made humans better than angels. They may not be perfect, but some of them tried so damn hard to be the best they could. Angels had all they needed already provided. Shelter, family, sustenance – mankind had to struggle for what they needed. When all that was given was free will, mankind had done a pretty decent job of life. They deserved more time. Even the dinosaurs got several million years.

“You want anything else with that?” A voice brought Gabriel out of his musings and he looked up to see the waitress of the diner he was in standing over him. 

“I'm good, thanks.” He smiled at her and then turned his gaze down to his plate. Why, exactly had he come to this place again? Oh yes – barbecued fried chicken – the taste still lingered on his tongue.

“You're welcome.” She turned and went back to the kitchen.

Gabriel was halfway through his meal – grease was just as good as sugar sometimes – when he caught sight of a couple a few booths away from him. It wasn't so much the couple that was remarkable that the sight of the woman, who was six months pregnant with a boy, that caused something in his memory to suddenly snap to the forefront. 

He'd been in mating heat when he'd run into Dean Winchester four months ago. If he'd been in heat, it didn't matter that Dean was male – Gabriel still could have gotten him pregnant.

Where there might have been cold dread at such a thought, a sudden warm feeling started to build in Gabriel's heart. What if there was a child? A child wasn't part of the plan, but – if there was one – that would change _everything._

He dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and left his melting ice cream sundae untouched as he vanished from the place. 

**

Near the end of September, Dean knew it wouldn't be too much longer before he could no longer hide the fact that he was pregnant. He figured that somehow, probably during a short rest period during that afternoon and night of marathon sex, he'd somehow grown a womb, because three days ago during a shower, he'd noticed there was a slit between his legs that he hadn't been born with. Oddly, the longer he thought about it, the less freaked out he was knowing there was a tiny baby growing inside of him. He stood, clad only in sweats as he looked over the slight rounding of his stomach. He set his hand against it, rubbing the area slowly. If there was something dark and malignant about this child, it hadn't manifested itself yet, other than the occasional heartburn. He still didn't know how he was going to explain the child once it arrived. The thought of giving birth alone terrified him – and Dean didn't know how he was going to tell his dad about his. Dad was going to find out eventually. Dean just hoped he could avoid it until after the baby was born. It'd be a lot easier to convince John Winchester that some cherubic infant was harmless when he or she was curled up in a crib _next_ to him than growing _inside_ of him.

He went over to the bed and sat down, his hand still resting on his stomach. The springs groaned with rust and age, making him cough as a small cloud of dust rose around him. It wouldn't be long before the money he'd earned harvesting crops ran out. He'd been careful, hence the reason he was currently squatting in an abandoned house rather than staying in a motel. He'd tried to make it last, but gas prices were ugly and he'd made it a point to eat more sensibly as well. Those things combined made for a relatively quick drain on his stash. He pulled a shirt on and slowly buttoned it up, knowing that his clothes too, would soon cease to fit – yet another expense he'd have to worry about. Since the attacks in New York and Washington, he'd cut up his fake credit cards, getting the newly formed Homeland Security or FBI on his ass was the absolutely _last_ thing he needed right now. He'd rather take on demons than the US Government right now. He'd thought about heading out to California to look up Sam, but his brother would most likely have a similar reaction as their dad would. 

Dean sighed and flipped through the pregnancy book he'd picked up at a library three towns away – hoping it would explain some of the things he was going through. “According to this, I should feel you moving here before to long. If everything is just the same for me as it would be if I were a chick.” He smiled at the idea. He was about to stand up and get things sorted before getting some sleep when he heard a floorboard creak near the front of the house. 

Swallowing, Dean took his shotgun in his hands and slowly rose to his feet, his eyes trained on the door. There was just one person from the sound of things. He'd not heard anyone drive up, or even a passing four-wheeler or something similar. Whoever it was, had come on foot – or by another method. What had he been thinking about demons a moment ago? He kept his grip firmly on his weapon as he heard the footsteps getting closer to the room he was in. 

Shoot first, ask questions later.

The door swung open, groaning on hinges that hadn't seen WD-40 any time in the last decade and to his credit, Dean didn't drop his gun in shock. 

“It's you.” 

Gabriel wasn't surprised by the venom in Dean's voice. He also knew that Dean had been more or less expecting him – and it only took one glance at the man to confirm his suspicions. The man was pregnant. “This isn't a place you should be, Dean. Not in your condition.”

Dean cocked the gun and kept it trained on Gabriel. “What are you and why did you do this to me?”

Gabriel entered the room, slowly circling Dean, who followed him, his grip on his weapon never faltering. “To answer the first, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. The answer to the second – well, I know this will sound like a horrible response, but it was an accident.”

“Why don't you tell me what you are? Then we'll see if I believe you.”

He lifted his chin before responding. “I'm an angel, Dean.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, yes I do.” Gabriel had been taking in the rest of the room while they'd been circling. The place was filthy, just breathing the air in here was harmful to the man standing across from him. “Because what else could I be and not responded to silver, salt or holy water?”

That made Dean flinch. “You knew - you knew I was testing you that night.”

“You're a hunter Dean,” he smiled. “Of course I knew you'd test me. A pretty smart move on your part.”

“What do you want?” Dean spoke through clenched teeth. Call it being a hunter, call it freakin' maternal instinct, he suddenly knew one thing for certain: he wasn't letting Gabriel hurt his baby. Not while he was still breathing.

When he caught the man's thoughts, Gabriel had to repress a smile. “I'm not here to harm you or the baby.” He sighed. “I told you, I didn't set out to get you pregnant.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“At the moment what I want is to get you out of this _shack_ you're calling a shelter for the night.”

“What makes you think I should trust you, even for a moment?”

“You have no reason to trust me.” He let his shoulders fall slightly. “But then, you don't want to sleep here tonight, do you?”

Dean flinched. “I'll be fine.”

“You're scared, Dean. You're more scared for the baby than you're willing to admit to me. That's the reason you haven't told your father yet.” After he finished speaking, he was aware that the man had started to tremble.

“Dad won't believe me if I tell him she's not evil.”

“She?” Gabriel blinked in surprise. “You know she's a girl?”

“Call it a really strong hunch. I may not be able to keep you from hurting her, but I can keep her safe from Dad.”

“I am not going to hurt you or her, Dean. What can I do to make you believe this?”

He slowly lowered his weapon, looking defeated. “I don't know what to do. If I go to other hunters, I know she'll be killed. I can't go to my family – it'd be the same way... if Sam even bothers. I can't do this alone. So, I'm guessing you're pretty much the only option I have left.”

Gabriel sighed and came over to him, noting that Dean did not raise his weapon as he approached. “If I could go back and do this properly, I would.” He set a hand on the man's arm, waiting for a flinch that didn't come. “I know you don't trust me. Therefore, I'll do my best to earn your trust.” He gave the room a disgusted look. “Let's get you out of here and someplace clean. There's so much mold in here, it's a wonder you're not sick already.”

“Go where?” 

“Someplace safe.” And blackness and sleep overtook Dean as Gabriel's hand made contact with the side of his head.

**

Dean rolled over in his bed, rubbing his face. He had just had what was unquestionably the best night's sleep he'd had since sometime back in July and he felt wonderful. He didn't trust Gabriel, but given all his options, it wasn't as if he could afford to be picky. He slowly sat up in the bed, yawning. The heavy curtains hid the sun, save for a thin beam created by a chink in the fabric. The bed stood alone in the room, save for a dresser where his duffel bag was sitting. When he swung his feet to the floor, he was surprised that he didn't sink in up past his ankles, the carpet it was so soft. It was the sort of room he'd seen in glossy magazines and when he crossed to the door, he half expected to find Gabriel had locked it. He was therefore surprised when the handle of the door responded to his touch and he pulled it open. 

“Hello?” He could hear movement in a room downstairs, and he leaned over a railing to look over a room that was easily the largest one Dean had ever seen in a house. “Hello?” He called again and he went down the stairs. After listening for a moment, he figured out where the noise was coming from and headed that direction. When he reached the kitchen, he did a double take. Gabriel was cooking. “Uh, good morning.”

Gabriel looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Dean. Rest well?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” He rubbed his eyes again. “So this is where you live? Suburbia?”

He shrugged in response. “There are houses like this all over the neighborhood – nothing stands out. Fancy digs in the middle of nowhere? That makes people talk.”

Dean came the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Guess that's true.” 

“Hungry?” 

“I could eat, yeah.” He flinched as his stomach growled as the smell of something absolutely wonderful reached his nose. “Something baking?”

“That would be the cheese danish.” 

“Smells good,” he looked around searching for something to help ground him in all of this. “Uh, how can I help?”

“You can set the table.” Gabriel smiled and turned his attention to the hash browns he was cooking. “I'll show you around the rest of the house after breakfast.”

“Thanks.” Dean said, still a little uncertain about all of this as he got plates out of the cupboard and took them over to the table. “Uh – my car...”

“It's in the garage.” He set the spatula down. “I don't expect you to adjust to being here right away, Dean.”

“I sort of figured.” He grasped the back of the chair. “I've just never... taken this much time off.” He frowned and then turned. “Relevant question... this pregnancy - it's a nine month thing, right?”

“'Fraid so.” Gabriel opened the oven and pulled out the pan of danish. 

Dean blinked. “Uh, ever hear of an oven mitt?”

“Oh. Right.” He looked at his unblemished hand and then back at the hot pan. “Make sure I never do that in front of the neighbors.”

“I'll try,” Dean went back to setting the table. “And could try and not do it in front of me too? That's – unsettling.”

***

John Winchester was tired. He had spent the last two weeks scouring the back-roads of Texas, trying to figure out where his eldest had run off to. He couldn't even think why Dean would just drop off the face of the Earth. He hadn't seen his boy since that awful night in June, when Sam took off. John knew he'd also taken off, leaving Dean alone in that motel room with next to nothing. November was getting closer and he wanted at least part of his family back in order by then. He needed Dean's help in hunting this demon and hunt the other things that had gotten stirred up back in September, when the normal world started going to Hell. He sank down onto the bed of his latest motel room and ran a hand through his hair. He hoped his boy hadn't gotten deep into some hunt and needed help and couldn't ask for it. 

Reaching down, he started to unlace his boots. Pretty soon, John was certain he'd have to stop looking for the demon and try and locate Dean instead. He just needed to know if his boy was safe, that's all. He removed both of his shoes, examined them for a moment and decided he'd polish them some other time. Just as he set them back down to the floor, his cell phone went off, a jarring ring that snapped him back to reality. He looked at the screen and frowned. The number was unfamiliar. He snapped it open. “Who is this?”

“Dad?” It was Dean – at least, it sounded like Dean. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah Dad. It's me.” There was a muffled cough.

“Dean? Where are you? Are you all right?” Relief washed over him. It felt good just to hear his boy's voice. 

“I'm fine. Tired and I've got a cold, but I'm fine.” 

“Why...what happened? Your cell number said it'd been disconnected. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?” John suddenly felt as he if we was scolding a nine year old Dean, not one who was twenty-two.

“I'm sorry, Dad. My old cell met with an unfortunate accident.”

“What kind of accident?” John figured the cold medicine his son was on was making him loopy – otherwise he wouldn't be talking as if they hadn't spoken for a month.

“It was charging overnight when there was a blackout due to a thunderstorm. Circuits got fried in a power surge when there was a lightning strike.” Dean chuckled weakly. “I couldn't even get my contacts from the damn thing.” 

“It's taken you this long to get a new one?” John decided he'd keep his anger in check. Shit happened, he knew that.

“Yeah. Things have been kind of... weird lately.” 

“Weird how?” He suddenly had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. “Dean, are you in some kind of trouble?”

Dean laughed. A good sign, John told himself – even though he could hear the sarcasm in the mirth. “In a manner of speaking. Don't worry, I'm not in jail.”

“That's good.” He cursed softly. “Shit, Dean – did you get some girl pregnant and that's where you've been?”

“No.” 

“Well, thank god for that.” John stood up and went across the room to get a beer from the fridge. “Some kind of hunt trouble then?”

“No, it's not that. I've not been hunting much lately.” He coughed again.

“Are you sick – more than a cold sick?” He wished his son would stop skirting around his problem and just say what was going on. “Is that what it is?”

“Shit.” Dean took a deep breath. “I – I'm going to tell you something that's probably going to piss you off. So could you just – let me say it all at once and then yell at me?”

“I'm not going to be angry with you son. I just want to know where the hell you've vanished too.”

“All right, remember back when I told you I was bi?” 

“Yes.” John snapped open the beer and took a deep gulp. He honestly hoped his son wasn't going to be telling him he'd gone into nude modeling or something. “You meet someone?”

“Yeah. Look, I gave the guy the standard test – silver cup of holy water and all that.” There was another cough followed by a soft 'ow' before Dean continued talking. “Well, he passed all that and so I assumed he was just a normal guy.”

“What did he do to you?” He set his beer down. “Is he holding you prisoner somewhere?”

“I'm not a prisoner Dad. I – I'm in a safe location.” He took a deep breath. “He isn't a monster Dad. Not entirely human, but he's not evil.”

“How do you know that? He could have you brainwashed!” John started to pace. “Tell me where you are and I will come get you.”

“No, Dad. I need to stay where I am. I – I'm pregnant.”

John nearly dropped the phone. “You're _what?_ How is that even _possible?_ What the fuck do you do think you're _doing?_ Why the hell haven't you gotten rid of the damn thing?”

“I resent you referring to my little girl as a 'damn thing.'” A voice from behind John said and he whipped around to see a man standing behind him; a very angry looking man. 

“Who the hell are you?”

The man came over and took the phone out of John's hand. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Get some rest. You need it.” He closed the phone and set it on the counter. “Well, that went better than I expected.”

John didn't even pause, he swung his arm and slammed his fist into the stranger's jaw and fell back, clutching his wrist in pain. “What – how – who the fuck are you?”

“Obviously something you shouldn't mess with.” He leaned nonchalantly against the counter. “Be glad you didn't try to kick me - you could have broken your leg doing that.”

“What did you do to my boy? Where are you keeping him?” 

“I didn't set out to get Dean pregnant. But, upon learning that I did, I did the responsible thing. I'm keeping him safe. And before you ask, no, I am not in cahoots with that demon you're hunting. That's who I'm hiding him from. The baby's in a lot more danger before she's born than after.” He folded his arms. “I was hoping you could at least be somewhat rational about this. I'm doing my best to keep my temper.”

“What the hell are you?” John straightened up a bit. “Witch?”

“I wouldn't have passed the holy water test if I was, John.” He sighed. “You don't believe in what I am. Which I find wholly amusing, as you do believe in demons.” He moved away from the counter. “If you want to put some ice on that, go right ahead.” He walked across the room, sitting down at the small table near the window.

“Where is Dean?”

“For the millionth time, he's someplace safe. I'm not going to just flat out tell you where he is. Considering where I found him, you should be very thankful I got Dean before someone or something else did. As a matter of fact, you're not thinking about where Dean is – you're thinking of a way to kill me. Which, considering I'm the only one who knows where he is, would really ruin your chances of finding him.”

“I'll find a way.” He sneered in reply.

“John, either you and I are going to have to learn to get along, or you're never going to see Dean again.”

“You threatening me?”

“You threatened my child, it's only fair.” He shook his head. “The baby is the reason your son went into hiding. He knew you'd want to kill her. I'm only telling you this once – go on with your hunts and leave me and Dean alone.”

“You don't honestly think I'm just going to sit back and not look for my boy, do you?”

“No, I know you won't.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “But I can think of something to occupy you for a while.”

“What's that?” John was starting to run out of patience.

“That ghoul you killed in Windom, oh... eleven years ago, was it?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Never-mind how I know - ” Gabriel pointed at himself and spun his hand around in a circle. “I just do.” He shrugged. “I just thought you should know... you only killed one of them. There's two more still there.” A second later, he vanished.

In response, John picked up his beer and went back to sit on the bed. He wasn't sure if what just happened was real or a very fucked up dream. If he was right about the ghouls, however – he at least needed to check it out. 

**

Gabriel came back to the house, finding it mostly in darkness, indicating that Dean had, in fact, gone to bed. He slid his hand along the banister as he mounted the stairs, smiling. While Dean still didn't entirely trust him, he couldn't deny the fact that he was being taken care of. Gabriel paused at the bedroom door, looking in at him lying on the bed. Even from here, he could see the overflowing waste-basket of tissues. The cold was taking a lot out of him, since he couldn't take any medicine and Gabriel couldn't just heal him from the illness. Healing humans of minor sicknesses tended to mess with their immune systems. He slipped into the room and sat down on the bed, brushing his hand over Dean's slightly feverish forehead. “I know you're awake.”

Dean coughed and opened his eyes. “Can't stay comfortable.”

“Need another pillow?” 

“No.” He looked up at Gabriel. “You're not going to sit there all night, are you?”

“Why? Does that bother you?” He grinned.

“It's creepy.” He shifted in the bed, stuffing one of his pillows under his stomach, he could rest more on his side. “I'm too used to sleeping on my front – and I know better than to try and sleep on my back. My lungs don't want me doing that.”

Gabriel shook his head and picked up one of Dean's hands. “Be glad it's fall and not summer. You'd be roasting.”

“True.” He blinked up at him. “If you're staying here, you're not sitting there.” He glanced behind him. “Bed should be big enough for the both of us.”

“Dean...” He mentally kicked himself. Why was he objecting to something like this? “I don't sleep.”

“Well, I can't sleep with you sitting there watching me like I'm a cake in the oven.” 

He snorted and got up to move to the other side of the bed, glad Dean's back was to him as he shifted his everyday clothes to ones more suited for sleeping. “You promise to get some rest?”

“I'll get some sleep, don't worry.” He rubbed his eyes. “This is going to sound really girlish, but I don't like sleeping alone in the house.”

Gabriel slid under the covers, refusing to give into his urge to wrap his arm around Dean. “I've told you this is a safe place.”

“I know you have. I think it's the idea of it.” He sighed. “I've been wondering, you really didn't spend a lot of time here – before, did you?”

“Before I found out about you, no. I just walked by this house one day when it was for sale, and for some crazy reason, I wanted it. Furbishing it, however – I am just sort of making it up as I go along.”

“Literally or figuratively?” Dean coughed. 

“Bit of both, actually.” Gabriel let out a breath. “I don't know how all of this will work out, Dean.”

“I know, you just want to keep me and the baby safe.” He looked over his shoulder at him. “I believe that. But – what about after she's born? What then?”

He closed his eyes for a moment before responding. “If I asked you to stay here, with me – so we can raise our little girl together, would you have a problem with it?”

Dean was quiet for so long, Gabriel thought he may have fallen asleep without him noticing. “I'd have to start to trust you more than I already do for that. But I also know that I can't think about myself in this. I have to think about our daughter. The road is no place for a kid. Especially a girl – I don't want her growing up like I did.”

“So you would stay.” He gently set a hand on Dean's back, rubbing the area slowly.

“Yeah. But I don't think I could give up hunting – not completely. There's too many people who need help.” 

“We can work that out, Dean.” He smiled. “I have my tasks to do as well. There's a lot going on that I am not ready to open up about just yet.”

“I imagine you've got more to keep track of than I can comprehend and I probably don't want to hear half of it. Since we've already established that we both like food, bad movies and sex – we'll see what we can build from there.” He coughed again.

“I've seen relationships start with less than that and last a lifetime.” He smiled. “There's also something else that we both have in common.”

“What's that?” 

He moved closer to Dean, so that their bodies were almost touching. “Wanting family. Mine hasn't noticed I'm gone and yours, well – yours isn't in the best of shape either.”

Dean let out a weak laugh. “In case you haven't noticed, we're both pretty messed up in our own ways as well.” He groaned. “Aw, crap.”

“What's wrong?” Gabriel frowned. “You going to be sick?”

“No. Baby girl woke up.” He let out a sound that was part laugh, part grunt. “Here...” Dean maneuvered Gabriel's arm so it was over his side and pressed his hand against his stomach. “Can you feel that?”

Gabriel felt a slight flutter under his hand. “Yes, yes I can.” He felt it again, harder this time and he nearly started to cry. “I'll say she's awake.”

Dean chuckled. “Think how I feel. That's my kidney she's using for a soccer ball.”

He still couldn't let go of the movement under his palm as he rested his head against Dean's back.  
“She's healthy – I can tell that much.” He kissed the side of Dean's face, tentatively. “I hate to tell you this, but her foot's only going to get bigger.”

“I know that.” He smiled. “Knowing my luck, she's going to figure out how to kick and punch by Thanksgiving. That's just a month away.”

Gabriel smiled. “Yes. Though I don't she'll be big enough to do that then – she's still got a lot of growing to do.” 

“Uh, just how much can you tell about her right now?” 

He set his head against Dean's, stretching out his hand. Under his palm, he could still feel the steady kick of his daughter's foot against it. “She weighs almost a pound – and just under a foot long.” He ran his hand away from the flutter. “She's using both feet, that's probably why that kick seems so strong.” His hand stopped just over Dean's belly-button. “Her head and torso are down here.”

“Sounds like she's trying to get comfortable.” Dean let out a small groan. “I think she's settling down.”

“That's because she can hear us. Not that she understands much, but she knows we're both here.”

“Seriously?” Dean looked over his shoulder at him. “Is that normal? I mean, can all babies do that?”

“Of course.” He kissed Dean's forehead again. “It's not just because she's an angel-human hybrid.” He settled against the man. “There's a few things that are different though.”

“Such as?” Gabriel could hear the worry and slight fear in Dean's voice.

“It's nothing to be worried about.” He closed his eyes and reached out with his Grace, knowing that Dean would feel it as his hand growing warm. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Checking something.” He rubbed Dean's stomach in a slow circle. “Her Grace isn't as strong as a regular angel's – but for the stage she's in, it's above average.” He smiled. “You didn't tell me you'd already given her a name.” 

“What's Grace and how does she know her name already?”

“Sssh...” He stroked Dean's hair. “Grace is, in simple terms, what fuels an angel. It's also what allows us to perform the things we do, healing, fighting and the like.”

“Does it run out?” It was a sensible question.

“Usually not. It's complicated to explain. When a fledgling is born in Heaven, their Grace is normal. Since our girl is being carried by you and not me, she'll not have powers like those born from angels. She won't be able to heal others, she won't be able to fly, she will, however, be able to learn things faster and I'm guessing she'll never have a sick day at school.” Gabriel settled against Dean's back. “Now, as for her name – I told you that she can hear us. She probably also picked up the name from your thoughts.”

“She can read minds too?”

“No – pardon the expression, but it's a bit of a mother-child bond.” He rubbed Dean's stomach in slow circles. “You both need some sleep.” He smiled. “We'll have a good long talk over breakfast – I can explain it better then.”

“You promise?” Dean said, sleepily.

“Promise.” He closed his eyes, willing himself to at least rest, since sleep was next to impossible for him. “And you know what, I do like her name.” He reached out with his Grace, the equivalent of brushing his hand over the back of his daughter's head and he felt her settle. 

“'Night.” Dean said with a yawn.

“Good night, Dean.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb against the man's stomach, “and good-night to you too, Sara.”


	2. Chapter 2

John couldn't say he was surprised when he tried to ring back the number Dean had called him with and he was told it was disconnected. The area code for the number was one for Hawaii – he seriously doubted that was where his son was. Whatever the fuck had taken and impregnated Dean didn't want to be found. If he wasn't on outs with Bobby Singer _again_ , he'd ask the man to look into what could pass the demon/witch test and get a man pregnant. There couldn't be that many things left that could do it that actually existed. If he asked Jim for help, he'd get that stupid angel spiel again. There were no such things as angels. If there were, they obviously didn't seem to give a shit about getting rid of demons before they attacked innocent people like his family. 

With no leads on Dean, not even an idea of where to start to looking again, here he was, returning to Windom on the chance that there still might be two ghouls in town. If the creature who had Dean was sending him on a wild goose chase, he'd have one more reason to find a way to kill the freak. When he found Dean, he'd kill the bastard – there had to be a way to do it – and then, then he'd deal with the monster his son was carrying. It wouldn't be easy, judging from the conversation, Dean had gotten attached to the little beast. Hell, the spawn had probably messed with his son's mind into _thinking_ he cared about it.

Coming back to Windom was almost like going back to Lawrence. His friend in town, Joe Barton, had said he would take care of any problems that arose after John had left town. He turned up the collar of his leather jacket as he crossed the gravel lot to walk into Cousin Oliver's diner, hoping that he could wrap this up very quickly – and then he could start looking for Dean again. He'd find a trail, someone somewhere knew something. He slid into a booth, inhaling the wonderful scent of fried onions and strong coffee. 

“Welcome to Cousin Oliver's. Can I bring you something to drink?” The waitress set a menu down in front of him.

“Coffee, please.” He looked up and gave the woman a tired smile.

“Sure. Just to let you know, we are out of strawberry-rhubarb pie. We should have more tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” John watched her go to another table and turned his attention to the menu. He wondered if the meatloaf was as good as it was ten years ago. If the cook hadn't changed, it should be.

“John? John is that you?” A voice called from the counter and he looked up. A tired blond woman was looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. He blinked in surprise when his memory caught up with him.

“Kate?” 

The woman picked up her cup of coffee and sat down on the other side of John's booth, still staring at him. “I... I didn't think you'd come back to Windom.”

“Thought I'd double check things.” It was the safest answer he could think to give as the waitress came back over and set down John's coffee.

“What can I get you today?” 

“Meatloaf – what's today's vegetable?”

“Green beans.” She scrawled the order down on her pad. “You want me to bring you that slice of cake over here, Kate?”

“Please.” She replied and the waitress walked off again. As soon as she was out of earshot, the woman turned back to John. “I – are there more of those... things?”

“There might be. Like I said, double checking.” John took a sip of his coffee, feeling rather weird – like he was on a first date or something. Eleven years ago, he'd spent three nights in this woman's bed. Bit awkward – and she was the reason he hoped he never ran into a Woman in White without backup. 

“I see.” She looked down into her mug as the waitress set a fork and a plate containing a large slice of yellow cake on the table and then walked off again. “Um, how long are you in town for?”

“Few days, maybe a week. Joe Barton still around?”

“Yes, I've got his number in my cell, if you need it.”

“Kate, is something wrong?” 

“Why would you think that?” John noted that her hand shook a little as she took a sip of coffee.

“Because you seem nervous. Is there something I should know about?”

Kate set her cup down, but didn't let go of it. Instead, she wrapped her hands around it, her gaze more on the dark liquid than anything. “You said you came to double check things. Did... did that include checking on me?”

“I thought you'd left Windom for Chicago. You told me you were going to go to med school down there.”

“Change of plans.” She took a deep breath. “You still drive that black Impala?”

“Not recently. My son drives it now.” John hoped that Dean still had the car.

“You didn't mention you had kids when I met you, John.” 

“He doesn't live with me.” John rubbed his eyes. “It's a long story.”

“Always was, with you.” She laughed softly. “I uh... how many kids do you have?”

“Just two, both boys. Dean's off somewhere and Sam's in college.”

“Oh, they're all grown up then,” she picked up her fork and sliced into her cake.

“It's what their age says – but most of the time I still think they're eleven and eight.” He chuckled as the waitress returned with his lunch. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” She turned to Kate. “Tell Adam I said hello.”

“I will.” She took a sip of coffee.

“You're married now?”

“What? No!” Kate bit at her lip. “Adam's my son.”

John looked back down at his food. “How old is he?”

“He just turned eleven last month.”

He slowly raised his gaze to meet Kate's, wondering if that Gabriel asshole knew about this. If he was an angel or something, he probably did. “Eleven?”

“Yes.” She took a sip of coffee. “No one around here knows, John. His father isn't listed on his birth certificate.” 

“I - I'm not sure what I should say.” He poked at the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate, his appetite pretty much gone.

“We're fine, John. Really. I don't expect you to do anything.” She took a bite of cake and it encouraged John to take a few bites of his lunch. The meatloaf was just as good as he remembered. 

“I still feel like I should do, I don't know – something.”

“Finish your lunch first.” She smiled at him over her coffee mug. “You'll probably feel better after you eat.”

**  
Dean woke up to find himself alone in bed. However, unlike in the past, he woke up to find the curtains drawn back and the room full of late autumn sunshine. He tossed back the covers and walked over to the windows to look outside. He'd seen the yard from the first floor windows, but he'd figured there was some kind of unwritten rule that he wasn't supposed to open the curtains up here. Dean knew that the neighborhood was spread out and from the second floor, he saw that the houses appeared to be on acre sized lots, the house behind them had a yard that had a pool and a seriously large deck. He pulled away from the window, the need for food was starting to outweigh his curiosity about the neighborhood. Just like he had every morning, Dean came downstairs to find Gabriel working in the kitchen. If there wasn't a small gym in the house, he knew he would have gained twenty pounds in the past few weeks just from the good food the angel was feeding him. Today, however – the angel wasn't cooking, but unpacking a heavy paper bag. “Stepped out for food, huh?”

He turned and smiled. “It's for lunch, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Any reason you opened the curtains upstairs?” Dean got out a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard. 

“It's time you got a good dose of Vitamin D. I know you hate being cooped up like this.” He sighed, “But...”

“I know, it can't be helped,” he poured himself some cereal and then got out the sliced fruit from the fridge. “I don't think I've eaten this healthy in years.”

“What, not used to having fruit for breakfast?” Gabriel set a jar of red sauce next to the stove, put another container in the fridge and then handed Dean the milk. 

“Not used to having fruit, period.” He opened another cabinet and got out the honey jar. “Not to mention I don't think I've eaten this much honey since I was seven or eight.”

Gabriel folded the now empty bag and put it back in a drawer with some others. “You haven't been sick to your stomach at all, have you?”

“Not since August. I thought I had heat exhaustion for a while.” He went over to the table and sat down. “I think I picked so many tomatoes this summer it'll be a while before I want to see one that hasn't been pounded into sauce form.” He watched as Gabriel set a kettle on the stove and started to heat up some milk. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” The angel leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes.

“You said you don't sleep – but you need to eat?” 

“I _can_ sleep – it's just not something that's easy to do. As for eating, I don't need to eat food for sustenance, but after being down here on Earth for so long, I've found that food is pretty amazing. So I eat purely for pleasure.” He smiled. “How's the cereal?”

“Pretty good.” He chewed on a berry, thinking. “I'm still not sure how all this half-human, half-angel thing works out, exactly.”

Gabriel poured some hot milk into a mug, dousing the cocoa mix he'd placed in it and came over to the table. “Like I mentioned last night, most of the characteristics are picked up from the carrier – or maternal parent.” He sat down as Dean went back to eating. “See, if I had been the carrier – not that I would have minded – I would have carried her for six months and then, she'd be born in an egg. And I'd have to take care of the egg for two weeks before it hatched.”

He stared at Gabriel, oblivious to the milk dribbling onto the table from his spoon. “You hatched from a _friggin'_ egg?”

“I didn't. But a lot of other angels did.” He took a sip of his drink. “The first angels were made from light, just as the first humans were made from mud.”

Dean stirred his cereal before taking a few bites, wiping up the spill with a napkin. “I'm still processing all of this. So Sara's not going to be able to just smite demons with a thought, or something will she?”

“No. She has to grow up a bit first.” He chuckled. “However, she will be able to tell when a person is possessed, no matter how well the demon tries to hide. Not to mention she'll be able to recognize other supernatural beings at a glance. She'll still need to learn what's what, but in a kennel full of dogs, she'd be able to pick out the skin-walker.”

“Now there's a comforting thought. Skin-walkers disguising themselves as dogs to be adopted into people's homes and turn them into monsters.” He drained the last of the milk from the bowl and set it down. “Not that I want her within a hundred miles of a skin-walker anyway.”

“Neither do I.” He took another sip from his mug. “Would you like some?” Gabriel indicated the cocoa.

“No, I'm good for now.” He rubbed his temple, grunting. “I hate to say this, but I really need something to _do._ I'm not used to doing practically nothing for this long – and March is still a long way off. I mean, I can only watch so many movies and run so many miles on that treadmill before things get dull.”

Gabriel thought for a moment. “You could read – or do some research.” He rested his elbows on the table, tapping the rim of the mug with his index finger. “I'm getting a mild case of cabin fever myself, and I've been out of the house.” He frowned. “I'm sorry that I'm being overprotective of you here, but...”

“It's okay, really.” Dean rested his head on his hand, watching the angel. “What kind of research would I do? I'm not on a hunt – and I never was much of a reader.”

“That's due to the fact you never had time to read something that wasn't related to school or a case.” Gabriel stood and went to refill his mug with more hot milk after adding another heaping spoonful of cocoa mix to the bottom of the mug. “And I'm usually not this serious either. That's probably the reason I'm about ready to crack.”

“What do you usually do, since you don't normally spend time taking care of pregnant men?” Dean took his bowl over and put it in the dishwasher, getting down his own mug and dropping cocoa mix in it. “Now she's got me drinking hot chocolate.” He chuckled. “Practice for tea parties later, I guess.”

Gabriel smiled. “Something like that. And in answer to your question – I usually spend my time meting out justice.”

Dean frowned. “What kind of justice?” 

The angel shrugged. “Oh, this and that. I like to bump criminals off the most wanted list. Usually it's the people who'd get some ass-hat lawyer who'd finagle the bastards out of prison.”

“Is that supposed to horrify or amuse me?” 

“Depends, does a dickwad falling down a mine shaft inhabited by giant rats sound inhumane? I mean, this guy did drown his six children – and that's after he did other unspeakable things to them.”

Dean set a hand against his stomach and grimaced. “If I'm guessing that he did what you're implying – you actually might have been too nice.”

“I thought that too... that's why I also put a dozen yellow-jacket's nests at the bottom of the shaft as well.” 

“And no one's noticed that he's missing?” Dean drank from his mug.

“No. The town in question is still trying to figure out where the man who was raising tigers for exotic pets went.” He smirked. “I thought it would have been obvious.”

Dean slowly lowered his mug, his expression pained. “Just to check - I am on your good side, right?”

“You have nothing to worry about in that regard.” Gabriel smiled and the two of them went back to drinking their hot chocolate.

**

John stood, calm faced over the burning corpses of the two ghouls, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The creature who had Dean had been right. He still didn't know what to make of that thing – or how he'd even go about finding it. He didn't even know what it was. But it probably knew a lot more than it had let on. The ghouls hadn't even been all that active – sticking to nearly abandoned crypts. Had the creature sent him here to kill the ghouls, or did it know about Kate and Adam? He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from the ashy pile and headed back for his truck. He could stay in Windom a few more days, even though he'd already been here nearly a week. Kate had asked him to come over for dinner tomorrow. 

Sunday dinner. 

When was the last time he had one of those? One that didn't involve the well-meaning but sometimes bothersome Pastor Jim. Perhaps the good man would not seem so frustrating if he wasn't a man of God. John didn't know how anyone could believe in any kind of higher power or supreme being when there was so much shit in the world that had to be dealt with. How could there be any thing overseeing it all if parents had to bury children who died from cancer and children had to see their mothers burn on the ceiling of their nursery? 

Tomorrow he'd go to Kate's house and meet his youngest child. As he opened the door of his truck, he paused to look at the gold band still on his ring finger. He was still wearing the ring Mary gave him, all these years later. He could never really bring himself to take it off – the only time he really did was when he showered and he always put it back on before he even got into boxers. He slid into the driver's seat and drove back to his motel room, still not sure about what he would do if Adam asked if he had older siblings. The safest answer was that they were off living their own lives. Not much of a lie – it's what Sam was doing. Dean was a subject best left alone, like Mary. Adam didn't need to know all of this chaotic stuff. He didn't need to know about monsters or hunting.

John didn't want him ever knowing.

*

There wasn't a white picket fence in front of the Milligan residence, just two massive oak trees that had already started to litter the grass with fallen brown leaves. There was an ancient basketball hoop and a chalk free-throw line on the drive. John stepped out of his truck, smiling to himself. He'd picked up a package of rolls from the store on his way over – despite the gulf of years since he went to Sunday dinner, he knew it was bad manners to come empty handed. It was a nice neighborhood, just like that other neighborhood, back in Kansas. He rang the bell once, trying to keep himself calm. When Kate opened the door, he felt some bit of relief. He didn't think he could handle Adam straight off.

“I was starting to think you weren't coming.” She smiled and stepped aside to let him in.

“Long line at the store.” He indicated the bag. “I – brought some rolls.”

Kate took the bag. “You didn't have to do that, John.”

He managed a weak chuckle. “Grandmother's rules; it is poor manners to be invited for a meal and to only bring one's appetite. Granted, my grandmother has been dead for nearly twenty years, but the lessons remain.” 

She shook her head and led him to the kitchen. “Far be it for me to argue with a grandmother. My own most likely had a similar expression.” She got a cookie sheet out and set the rolls on it. “It was Adam's turn to choose dinner, so we're having spaghetti and meatballs.” She grinned. “And actually, since you brought bread, I won't have to worry about digging that container of bread-sticks out of the back of the freezer.”

John smiled. “Anything else I can do to help?”

Kate slid the sheet into the oven. “Would you stir that sauce in the round pan for me, please?”

“Sure.” He went over to the stove as instructed and at the same time, there were several audible thumps from upstairs. “What in the...” He looked up at the ceiling.

“Books – Adam just emptied his backpack – I hope he finds what he's looking for in there.” She shook her head and went out of the kitchen. 

He was back to the nervous feeling as he heard a muffled conversation and was surprised he maintained his calm demeanor as she came back into the kitchen, a tow-haired boy following behind her. “Hello.”

The boy looked at John like he was a cross between an animal in a zoo and slug. “Hi.” He sniffled once and then went to get some dishes from a cupboard. 

John couldn't blame him for the reaction. He'd missed eleven years of this kid's life – so it was only natural if the boy was pissed at him. “This smells good.”

Kate opened a package of pasta and dropped into a large pot of boiling water. “Hope it's good.” 

“So Mr. Winchester....” Adam's voice broke through the silence of the room and caused both of the adults to turn towards him.

“Yes?” John kept his tone neutral.

The kid gave him an awkward smile, as if shocked by his own courage. “How about those Diamondbacks? Or you a Yankees fan?”

He slowly broke into a grin. “I'm hoping those boys from Arizona take the prize. Think the Yankees have won enough World Series. Though I don't object to the Mets winning a few more.”

*

John was packing up things in his motel room when his cell phone rang. Another unknown number. He flipped the phone open, hoping his son had come to his senses. “Hello?”

“Hi, Dad.” Dean's voice was calmer than it had been last time.

“Dean.” John stuffed a pair of socks into his duffel. “You wise up yet?”

“I don't want to hang up, Dad. I want to talk to you, but if you keep saying things like that, I will hang up.” Dean's voice suddenly sounded odd – it sounded steely.

“I beg your pardon?” John wasn't used to his eldest defying him and he straightened up, glancing at his revolver in case that _thing_ showed up in his room. “Dean, there's no other choice to make.”

“No, there isn't. The choice _you_ want me to make isn't the one _I_ want to make.”

“Dean Michael Winchester, I do not like...” John gritted his teeth.

“You're the one who told me I wasn't strong enough to kill the demon dad. You said it was Sam's job.” There was pain in those words – John tightened his grip on the phone, his eyes narrowing.

“And I was right. You're not willing to do what it will take to get the job...”

“Shut up.” There could have been no power behind those words and John still would have fallen silent. Dean _never_ spoke like this to him. It had to be the influence of that creature. “You don't know me any better than you know Sam.”

“Sam doesn't want to be a part of this family, Dean. Now you need to tell me where you are so that we can get rid of...”

“Her name is _Sara_ , Dad and I'm not getting rid of her. You abandoned me. You walked out after Sam did. If you hadn't...”

“If I hadn't what, Dean? Let your brother go? You don't know the half of how things...”

“I know I'm the only one who had to keep their mouth shut about being pissed, Dad. You think I liked being dragged around the country any more than Sam? I only pretended not to mind so you'd not get pissed!” Dean sounded halfway between tears and anger at this point.

“Dean Michael...”

“Don't start with that! I'm not nine years old anymore!” He heard his son take a few deep breaths. “I am so sick of your orders, Dad. You trained me to be a good little soldier. You and Sam went AWOL while I was expected to hold it together and carry on as normal. You know, I could handle that, but according to your great plan to kill the demon, I'm cannon fodder – what, you planning on throwing me to the hell hounds while you exact your revenge and hope I come out in enough pieces to be sewn back together by a trip to the ER?”

“How can you say that to me?” His anger was starting to get the better of him. “How _dare_ you say that to me!”

This time, it wasn't Dean who answered, but the other person – and his words chilled John more than an arctic wind. “You won't be hearing from Dean again. Not until I'm ready for you to talk to him.”

“Give. Me. My. Son.” John said through clenched teeth.

“Sorry, that's not an option.” The line went dead and John slammed his fist into the nearest wall – and his anger kept him from feeling the throbbing pain that shot up his arm. 

***

Gabriel knew that it would take some time for both Winchesters to be ready to talk to one another. Perhaps he was putting to much faith in John Winchester, that somehow, the man would start to see things in more than black and white. Mankind had always shown a great ability to change their views on things – he'd seen it time and time again. How hard could it be for one man to stop seeing his own determination, drive and need for vengeance and realize what was really important? In the case of John Eric Winchester, it was apparently next to impossible. Of course it was impossible – he was the bloodline of his brother's vessels. Neither of them knew how to give an inch either. He knew he only had himself to blame for John's hatred of him – he hadn't exactly done anything to endear him to the man. 

Well, apart from the ghouls in Windom and the Milligans. If Gabriel hadn't sent John there, mother and son would have died under the ghoul's blades seven years from now. Although with John's way of thinking, he more than likely assumed Gabriel put the ghouls there. 

The angel sighed and walked silently through the house, checking things for the night. It was nearly Christmas – how had December gotten here so quickly? He could start to think of the baby's arrival in terms of weeks, rather than months. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking out of the dormer windows of the great room, he could see the faint holiday lights gracing some of the neighborhood homes. 

He went down to the finished basement and, before entering the small bedroom that was down there, he took off his shoes, socks and shirt. Setting them in a neat pile by the door, he walked across the carpet and sat down on the rug in the lotus position. He took a few long, deep breaths and then he flexed his shoulders, letting his wings out from hiding. After taking another deep breath, he tilted his head toward the ceiling, closed his eyes – and slowly, the words came. The English came first, followed by a multitude of Spanish, then came French, then Icelandic. He clasped his hands over his knees and let the words float through his Grace. 

Dean had felt the temperature in the house change. It was warmer, although he hadn't heard the furnace kick on. He made his way down from his room to the first floor, grimacing at the pain in his back. “Gabriel?” A soft glow was coming from the basement and he frowned – what was the angel doing down there? He made his way carefully down the slightly narrow basement stairs and stepping down to the bottom floor of the house was like walking into an August afternoon in Texas. It was so warm – warm enough that it could melt all the snow outside in an hour. Dean closed his eyes and swayed slightly on his feet, the warmth was tangible, wrapping him like a heavy blanket fresh from the dryer, he couldn't ever remember being this wonderfully warm. Leaning one hand against the wall, he kept moving forward, positive he'd find Gabriel in the middle of all this warmth. The light was also getting brighter and as he rounded the corner, Dean finally found the source of the heat – and Gabriel.

A massive set of wings were protruding from the angel's back – so big, Dean was certain they were curling around the walls of the small room the angel was in. Both light and heat were pouring off of the archangel in such profusion, it was a miracle it had not knocked him flat. A sharp jab against his side made Dean fall against the wall, his hand moving to rest on his stomach. The baby was kicking him almost in perfect sync with the waves of – whatever it was exactly – that was pouring off Gabriel. The light suddenly seemed to increase tenfold and Dean had to turn away, covering his eyes with his hands, sliding down to his knees, fear starting to overtake him. 

Gabriel tilted his head slightly as his let his Grace and the prayers directed towards him wash over him, knowing that more than likely, he couldn't hide the fact that he was up to something down here and it wouldn't take long for Dean to come investigating. He was about ready to release his second set of wings when a sharp stab of Grace hit against his – confused and frightened. The motion repeated itself and the angel fell out of his trance and sprawled onto the floor, bracing himself with his hands. He shook his head once and wheeled around to see Dean huddled just outside the door, cowering in fear. “Dean.” He whispered and rose to his feet, almost stumbling over them in his haste. He took the man's face in his hands, relieved to see no tell-tale markers of damage. “Dean?”

He whimpered and didn't open his eyes, but Dean turned towards his voice, shaking slightly. “What – I'm – shouldn't have come down here...”

Gabriel pulled Dean into his arms, rubbing his back gently. “It's all right.” He rested his head against the man's, taking a few deep breaths. “I should learn to close that door.” He stroked the man's hair, aware that Dean's pulse was going back to normal. 

“Eyes hurt.” Dean squinted and rubbed at his eyelids. “Stomach doesn't feel so hot either.” He let out a few breaths. 

“I think you'll be fine in a little while.” Gabriel shifted them from the basement to Dean's room upstairs, laying the man down comfortably in his bed. He knew the darkness in the room would bring some relief and sure enough, Dean's eyes blinked open a few moments later. They were a little red, as if he'd been crying – but Gabriel knew it could have been much, much worse.

“By the way, before I forget to tell you – nice wings.” Dean coughed and shifted a pillow so he could rest his stomach on it.

Gabriel smiled and wrapped his arm over the man, setting his head against his. “Pity I can't show you all nine of them.” 

Dean snorted. “What, the others made out of fire and lightning respectively?”

“How in the world did you know that?” He blinked in surprise.

“Educated guess.” He replied with a yawn.

*

Dean was surprised when he came down for breakfast on the morning of the twenty-fifth of December – Christmas – to find that Gabriel had been busy during the night turning the great room into a full-on magazine spread of the holiday. The scent of cinnamon and pine was heavy in the air and there was a huge stacks of gifts under the tree. He'd been so set on not celebrating today that now seeing all this, he wasn't sure if he was angry the angel had gone ahead and gone the whole hog with getting ready for the day or secretly pleased that he'd done it on the off chance there would be a need for celebration. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Gabriel said from behind and and Dean nearly laughed when he saw him.

“Merry Christmas – nice – uh...” He frowned. “Is that a wreath or a garland you're wearing?” 

He laughed and plunked a top hat on Dean's head, grinning. “Wreath.” He gave the man a one armed hug. “What do you think?”

Dean looked back into the room and shook his head. “I don't know what to think – it's beyond impressive. But I thought we weren't going to celebrate.”

“True. But as you're going to continue to find out, I've got a bit of a habit of going all out on holidays, regardless of who I'm with.” Dean let him lead him over to the couch. “Don't worry, Christmas is usually the only one I have a tendency to go overboard on.”

He smiled in response as he felt Gabriel's lips brush against his cheek. “It's great.” He turned and set his own kiss against the angel's chin. “It's just about as close to perfect as you can get.”

The angel smiled and gave him a light hug. “I'm glad you like it.”

“Though I feel bad.” He sighed. “I don't have anything to give you for the holiday.”

Gabriel smiled in response and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. “You said you'd stay with me back in October. That is all I really need.”

Dean didn't know how to respond seriously to something like that, so he went with the first thing that came to mind. “And an orchard that grows chocolate bars, but I figure you could probably snap one of those into existence if you really wanted to.”

The angel threw back his head and laughed in reply.

*

Nearly all the gifts turned out to be things for Baby Sara. Dean had never given a second glance to clothes for babies when he passed the department in various stores, but he had to admit – the outfits Gabriel had put together that included hats were by far the most adorable. It was pretty pathetic how girlie he got over the things – from frilly socks to the menagerie of stuffed animals. There were a few things for himself as well – mostly clothes that he couldn't fit into until after the baby was born and a new pair of boots. But at the bottom of the pile was an oblong package that Gabriel insisted he open last. Gabriel had gotten himself some presents and wrapped them – boxes of chocolate bars mostly, along with a subscription to World Weekly News. Dean figured it was better not to ask. 

He set down the last box he'd opened for Sara – a set of pajamas that she most likely wouldn't fit into until next year when Gabriel took the final box for Dean from under the tree and came over to him. “Now, I know you've been using all this free time you've got to brush up on your Latin and exorcisms and all other sorts of hunting things...” He handed Dean the box and sat down on the couch. “But this is something a little different from that.”

“What do you mean?'” Dean frowned at the blue wrapping paper, the bright white bow and suddenly it triggered a memory – of being three years old and finding a toy fire helmet in a package wrapped in paper just like this. 

“Open it.” Gabriel was beaming. 

He slid back the ribbon, adding it to the pile that the angel wanted to keep for some unknown reason and undid the paper. “Is it a book?” He pulled off the lid and slid it under the bottom of the box, folding back the tissue paper. Resting there was a glossy test book – which made him frown. “CPAT? What's that for?”

“Read the rest of the cover.” The smile on the angel's face seemed to grow brighter.

He scanned the rest of the wording, his eyes widening. “Are you honestly suggesting that I take this exam?” Tears suddenly pricked the corners of his eyes. “This is the test for firefighters.”

“What, you don't think you can pass it?” Gabriel slid an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.

“I... I'm not supposed to want that.” He swallowed, fighting back the urge to cry. “I can't want this.”

“Who says you can't?” The angel blinked in surprise. “You want to help people, you want to stay here. Do you want to go fix cars because that's the only thing you've been told you're good at besides hunting, or do you want to do something you've wanted to do all your life but were never allowed to?”

He swallowed, running his fingers down the cover, licking at the corner of his mouth. “I – I do want it. I just...”

Gabriel pressed another kiss against his cheek. “Don't think you can't pass the exam.” He hugged him. “Besides, you said you'd have to get back in shape after Sara was born, so you can get ready for the physical part of the test while you do that.”

“You really are too much sometimes, you know that?” He rubbed at his eyes, brushing his tears away, inwardly cursing his emotions getting the better of him.

“Old habit that I don't plan on ever breaking.” He chuckled. “Though I promise – I'll try not to spoil Sara too much.”

Dean grinned. “Tell you what – you do your best not to do that, and when she hits middle school and the boys show up, you get to pick if you want to be the good dad or the bad one. Regardless of which one I am, however – I get to clean my guns in front of every guy who comes to pick her up for a date.”

“I assume that's if we _let_ her date.” 

“Point taken.” He flinched as the felt said baby kick him hard. “Ow. That was my stomach!” He shook his head as he rubbed the spot. “Maybe she can date when she's my age... or older.”

Gabriel chuckled and set a hand next to Dean's. “I still like your gun cleaning idea. I've got a shovel and a backyard roughly the size of the universe.”

***

Sam knotted the last bag of trash and pulled it from the can, and headed for the dumpster. He'd spent his Christmas in one the the campus religious houses with a bunch of international students who either couldn't afford or didn't have time to get back home for the holiday. Dinner had been a combination of 'traditional' holiday foods from all the people present – Sam had made Winchester Stove Top Stuffing – which was Stove Top cooked over chicken breasts. It was Dean's recipe, but he'd seen it cooked enough times to know how to make it. It'd been the traditional meal for his family for years and he absolutely hated it when he was growing up. Now, when he'd seen it set among potato pancakes, borscht and more sugar cookies than should be allowed, he had a new found appreciation for it. Christmas was the only time Dean would ever make it and Sam couldn't believe how these kids from far-off places like Moscow, Jerusalem and Tokyo could think it was an amazing dish. 

He hurled the trash bag into the dumpster and headed back for the house, his hands in his pockets. Somewhere, no doubt, Dean had made the same dish for himself and Dad as they celebrated Christmas this year, that is if Dad remembered at all. There had been plenty of times their father had completely ignored the holiday. Dean had always tried to make an effort – probably more for his brother's benefit than his own. Sam had seen plenty of disappointment in Dean's eyes time after time. Disappointment he'd never voiced. 

Sam could never figure out why. As he started back to the house, he could hear one of the students had found the piano and was hammering out 'Jingle Bells' on the keys – while everyone sang the song in their native language. Half of them off key and the other half laughing too hard to get them in tune. He decided that Christmas 2001 would be marked as his favorite one – so far. 

It could only get better from here, right?

*

Dean sat down the casserole dish on a hot-pad, feeling a little uncertain. “I've never had Indian food for Christmas before.” 

Gabriel chuckled as he set down a serving dish of his own. “Well, it's gotten to be a bit of a habit of mine. Give me another few years and I'll probably have switched to German cuisine.” 

“Seriously?” He went back and picked up the salt and pepper shakers before sitting down. “Can't say I've ever had uh... what did you call this again?”

“It's saag chicken.” He set a serving spoon in the dish before going back to the kitchen for the bread basket. “I toned it down on the spices a little, I usually make mine hot enough to merit a gallon of water per bite for regular people.”

Dean grimaced as he slid into his chair. “I think I'll pass on that.” 

“I don't think I'd offer it to you,” the angel shrugged and sat down as well. “There's people in India who can't stand it that hot either. Though if I want real spice, I go for Thai.”

“Curry?” He dished himself up some rice.

“Usually.” He opened up the folded napkin of the basket and pulled out a thick piece of naan bread. “What do you think of lavender?”

“What do you mean, what do I think of lavender?” Dean put some of the spicy chicken over his rice and then waited for Gabriel to finish serving himself.

“For Sara's room. Somehow, I don't think she's going to be much of a pink girl.” He set his spoon back in the rice dish.

“Lavender huh?” Dean picked up his fork. “That might work.” He stabbed at his food for a moment. “Which room were you thinking of using?”

“The one at the end of the hall – the one nearest to yours.” Gabriel tore his bread in half. 

“That's the furthest one from yours.” He poked at his food. “I mean, not that you sleep or anything... but there's a bathroom between that room and mine. That could wake her up a lot.”

“What are you suggesting?” Gabriel stabbed at a piece of chicken. 

“Maybe I could move into your room and we could make my current room hers.” He didn't look up when he said it. He wasn't too sure of the reaction he'd get.

“You – move into my room?” 

“If you don't want me to, I'm fine with that.” He was glad he was looking down. Gabriel sounded upset. “I just thought, that maybe...” 

“No,” Gabriel reached over and set his hand on Dean's wrist. “I'm fine with it, I'm just surprised, that's all.”

He looked up, swallowing. “Why? Six nights a week out of seven you end up snuggled up with me anyway – and well, you've got the bigger bed.”

*

John stared down into his bowl of ramen noodles, wondering just how things had gotten so messed up. Sam was off at school and wouldn't talk to him. Dean was who knew where and he had no way of getting a hold of him. It was Christmas night, and here he was with a pot full of ramen and margarine slathered white bread – quite possibly the worst Christmas meal he'd ever eaten. His eyes shifted from the brown broth to the rest of the table, bare and alone. It was good that it was small – if it was big, it'd just remind him of how freakin' alone he felt right now. He hadn't even felt like turning on the television just for background noise. It wasn't as if he'd ever spent this holiday alone before, he had done so plenty of times. He'd left his boys with Bobby, with Caleb, with Jim – hell, he'd left the pair of them alone in a motel room at least twice. 

He rested his head against his hand, listening to the frozen rain lash against the motel windows. He was going to get that carton of eggnog and that bottle of rum out of the fridge here shortly and drink the whole lot of it. Perhaps it wasn't the best solution to making himself feel better – liquor never had been. But at least when he was drunk, he didn't care about how he felt, who he was with, or how rotten his life seemed to be at that time. The sooner the better, was his honest opinion. A little niggling voice was starting in the back of his mind. It didn't help that the voice had a form in the corner of his mind and all John can picture is Mary standing over him, wearing that cream colored peasant blouse and the bell-bottom jeans she wore long after they went out of fashion, hands on her hips, telling him in no uncertain terms that the reason his boys weren't here was his own fault.

It really didn't help that the voice – and thus Mary – was right.

****

 _She's so little_ was the only thing Dean could really think of the day Sara was finally born. In a rather Winchester like fashion, she decided that showing up two weeks early, on the sixth of March was perfectly acceptable. She was a tiny, round little thing with a riot of hair that was all different colors of the spectrum that was soft as down. He looked at her, nestled in the crook of his arm, too overcome with an emotion he couldn't quite explain. He knew it was love, but this was a deeper, stronger love than he'd ever had around any other family members. “Hard to believe something this little could kick so hard.”

Gabriel kissed the side of Dean's face, wrapping his arms around the pair of them. “She won't stay little for very long.” He brushed a finger against his daughter's cheek. “She also won't stay scrunched up either.”

“I kind of figured that, Gabe.” He smiled. “But, she's good, right? I mean...”

“I know what you mean.” He adjusted the cap on the girl's head. “She's healthy and strong. Not to mention heartbreakingly adorable, so she's the three best things an infant can be.” He smiled and kissed the side of Dean's face. “How are you doing?”

“I'm tired.” He smiled wanly. “But it's a good tired.”


	3. Chapter 3

John measured time not in weeks and months, but in hunts. Since he last saw Dean, he had put down fifty vengeful spirits, exorcised ten demons – or was it eleven? - killed nine shape-shifters, seven witches, and ended the life of one wendigo. His most recent hunt, the fiftieth spirit, had been targeting teachers in a small town in Maryland. With the closeness to Washington, John knew that working the area was a lot harder than in other parts of the country. People recognized area codes and most could identify a fake ID – the terrorist attacks four years ago only made it worse. People with fake IDs fell under scrutiny and he didn't have the resources to talk himself out of trouble if he came under questioning from the cops in the area, never-mind a real FBI agent. 

It was late and he rubbed his eyes tiredly, lamenting the fact he had only gotten twelve hours of sleep in the past week and now he was functioning on no coffee. He covered a yawn as he pulled to a stop at a red light and as he heard the low rumble of a motor he knew all too well – a motor he'd not heard in nearly four years, he snapped to attention.

John glanced to his left and there it was; a sixty seven Impala, glossy even in the darkness and a scruffy man at the wheel. Dean. As he watched, his son yawned, rubbed his eyes and then checked his watch. In that moment, he decided that he would at least talk to his son – see if he could find out what the hell had been going on. Hell, John wanted to know about that kid – see if it'd shown any kind of supernatural powers or _something._ There had to be something unnatural about the thing.

When the Impala pulled into the parking lot of a Waffle House, John followed right behind. Clever of his son to chose a place like this for a confrontation. He didn't park next to the Impala, but in the second row. For a few minutes, he watched as Dean got out of the car, glanced at him once and then went into the establishment. John noticed that the people behind the counter recognized Dean almost instantly; he came here often. John cursed. How often had he drilled into his boys to blend into the background? Here his eldest, his solider, being hailed by not one, but _three_ people in a diner not fifty miles from the nation's capitol. He got down from the truck and slammed the door shut. This was going to be harder than he wanted it to be. He swung open the door of the diner almost at the exact same moment the jukebox stuck in a corner started playing some old song by Billy Joel. 

In that moment, John wasn't sure what infuriated him more – the fact that he'd run into Dean, the fact that all these people in the place knew him, or the fact that the kid himself was giving him an expectant look from his booth seat near the back of the place. He slid into the seat across from his son, hating his back being to the door. “Hello, Dean.”

“Dad.” Dean took a few swallows from his water glass as the waitress came back over and set down a cup of coffee.

“Dean. Your usual tonight?” The woman smiled.

“Not to night Irene. Had a pretty decent sized dinner – so just the eggs and bacon.” He gave her a small smile over the rim of his water glass.

“Sunny side up?” 

“Uh huh. My friend here could use some coffee to start off too, please.” 

John blinked at the title. _Friend?_ “I'll have what he's having – only make those eggs over easy.”

“You got it.” The woman scribbled on her notepad and walked away.

“Come here often, Dean?” John knew it would be best to keep his anger to a minimum. 

“Once to twice a week, depends.” He took a sip from his coffee mug.

“Depends on what?” His eyes narrowed as the waitress brought him his coffee, both of them silverware and left.

“Work schedule, usually.” He took a drink of water. “You look good by the way.”

“Don't try and change the subject, Dean. How long have you been here?” 

“In Virginia? A while.” He took another drink of water and John could see a white bandage sticking out from the cuff of his left arm. 

“Hurt yourself?” He pointed to the arm, frowning.

“Minor burn – doesn't do much more than sting from time to time. Stupid arsonists.” He shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “I really hope they find the fucking bastard who's torching houses soon – world's got enough problems without having to deal with some asshole who gets his rocks off by burning down people's homes.”

“Since when do you hunt arsonists?” John was mentally congratulating himself for not reaching across the table and punching Dean for how calm he was about all this. 

“I don't. I just help put out the damn mess they make.” He drained his water glass. “Cut the crap Dad, I know you're pissed.”

“Pissed? Pissed doesn't even begin to cover it.” He snarled in response, grasping the edge of the table to brace himself as two plates came down onto the table.

“Dean, this guy's not going to start a fight in here, is he? I haven't had to call the cops in almost two weeks and that's a record for me.” 

“Don't worry Irene.” Dean sat back and folded his arms. “My dad's just a little angry I've not talked to him in almost four years.”

“I see – well, I'm going to keep an eye on him just in case.” She turned and left as Dean picked up the pepper shaker. 

“You're getting sloppy.” 

“That stick is getting further up your ass.” He put the shaker down and started buttering his toast. “My cover is getting comfortable. Sam got his chance to be normal – it's only fair. I am acting like things are perfectly normal in my life – as a matter of fact, my captain has continually praised me on my ability to work thirty-two hour shifts like it's nothing. Granted, just like everyone else, I hate it when the alarm bell rings in the thirtieth hour, but that's beside the point.”

“Wait... wait...” John closed his eyes and started to put things together. “Work – captain... Dean, did you become a fireman?”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” Dean replied indignantly and then turned his attention to his food. He sliced at his eggs, watching the yolks run out and sopping it up with his toast. “You were after that spirit over in Haegerstown, weren't you?”

John nearly dropped his fork. “How did you know about...”

“It was on my list of things to take care of. I was going to go the weekend after next, guess now I don't have to.”

“It was...”

“Killing people on the waxing gibbous moon, I know.” He sighed and took a bite of egg. “You know Bobby and Pastor Jim – they're hunters and they don't usually take care of the monsters themselves.”

“We're different Dean. You know that.” He stabbed at his own food, actually grateful for something hot to put in his stomach that he hadn't had to cook himself.

“I know that we've been running around in circles from chasing the demon for the past twenty-one years. We could have chased it all the way down to Timbuktu and we wouldn't have caught him.”

“If you're withholding information Dean, so help me...” John folded his arms, sneering. “And where the hell is Timbuktu anyway?”

“You have no idea what's really going on - and Timbuktu is in Mali, that's a country in Africa.” He took a large bite of toast and chewed.

“Taking a page out of Sam's book now, I see.” He sliced his eggs and as he was raising a fork-full to his mouth, saw that Dean was grinning at him. For some reason, his anger was suddenly gone. He was sitting in a run down diner, eating greasy food with his eldest and for once, he wasn't barking orders at him. It was almost normal – he stuffed the bite of egg into his mouth and chewed. It didn't help that his son was looking at him with the exact same look Mary used to give him when she had won an argument John didn't want to admit he'd lost. He swallowed. “Firefighter, huh?”

“I've been taking a few classes too. If I ever want to make Captain someday, a college degree helps.”

“I see, you've gone all...” He shook his head. “So I take it you still live with uh?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean took a sip of coffee. “I still live with Gabriel.”

“And um?”

“Sara.” Dean set his cup down slowly. “Her name is Sara, Dad.”

“That's a nice name.” He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you're all settled then. I just don't see how you can give up after all these...”

“Who said anything about giving up?” Dean opened a container of jam and slathered the contents on one of his remaining slices of toast. “Just because I'm not sleeping in seedy motels and hunting twenty-four seven doesn't mean I've _given up._ ” 

“Well, I have no idea what you're doing.” John picked up a piece of bacon and chewed it.

“I'd say turnabout is fair play, given that at least two thirds of the stuff you did when I was a kid didn't make sense at the time.” Dean let out a deep breath. “Look, Dad. I know that you don't approve of what I'm doing now or even how I'm living, but I stopped being a kid a long time ago.” 

“Dean...” John didn't want this conversation to go where he knew it was going.

“No, let me finish please. I can't live the way you do, Dad. Not anymore. I can't be dictated by what you think is best.” He straightened his shoulders, suddenly looking much older to John than twenty-six. “I have to do what is best for my daughter – and running after that _thing_ is not what's best for her.” He opened his wallet and tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Breakfast is on me. The change belongs to Irene. All of it.” He rose from his seat and walked away. 

John didn't turn around to watch his son leave. He wasn't entirely sure of what the hell had just happened. He pushed his plate away, his appetite completely gone.

“You done too, sugar?” 

He looked up at the woman, blinking. “Not – not just yet. Could I get some more coffee, please?”

“Sure.” She took Dean's plate and walked away. 

John ate more out of necessity than hunger as he finished off a slice of bacon as Irene returned. “Does Dean come in here often?”

“'Bout once a week. He usually only comes in here alone if his work schedule ends in the middle of the night.” She refilled his mug. “That man he lives with – now he's a real angel, but even he can't hold a candle to that little girl of his.”

“That adorable, huh?” John didn't look at the woman, he couldn't. 

“Precious little thing.” She took the twenty off the table.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She replied and John heard her retreat back up the counter. He couldn't say how long he sat at the table – just that his food was cold by the time he finally finished and he'd had a few cups of coffee. As he went out into the parking lot, he decided he'd head into town and get a cheap motel room – and then get a few hours of sleep before heading to Blue Earth. As he slid into his truck, he frowned when he caught sight of a pale blue envelope lying on the passenger seat. 

He settled into his seat, picking the card up and flipping it open. Inside was a paler blue card, decorated with brightly colored flowers. He scanned the words, his eyebrows lifting. It was an invitation to a birthday party – a _third_ birthday party. The last birthday party he could remember attending was Dean's fourth one. All his son had really wanted was one of the race-car tracks – heavy snow had prevented the kid from spending time outdoors on his favorite Christmas gift, a shiny tricycle. The look on Dean's face had been priceless when he opened the gift. 

*

Dean came into the house quietly, the exhaustion of a thirty-two hour shift getting to him as he mounted the stairs, carrying his shoes. The light was on in Sara's room and he smiled faintly as he walked over to the doorway and leaned against the threshold. “She having trouble sleeping again?”

Gabriel nodded from where he had the small girl leaning against his shoulder, her eyes were shut, but even from here, Dean knew she was awake. “Just a little accident – coupled with a bad dream.”

“I see.” He set his shoes down, a little of his strength returning as he came into the room and held his arms out.“Come here, Bug.” 

Sara lifted her head, gave her dad a sleepy smile and reached for him just as he reached over to take her from her papa. He nestled her against him, rubbing her back. “Missed you, Daddy!”

Dean kissed the side of her face, adjusting her against him. “Good to be home, sweetie.” He turned to Gabriel. “Any other problems?”

“Nothing serious.” Gabriel gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. 

Sara let out a yawn. “You smell like the waffle place, daddy.”

“You sound sleepy.” He rubbed her back, feeling her settle against him. “You want to get back in bed yet?”

“No.” She tightened her grip on his arms. “Don't wanna sleep.”

“Well, I'm going to sit down.” He settled down in the rocking chair, adjusting her so she was sitting in his lap. “What did you two do today while I was gone?”

Gabriel sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed, taking care not to sit on any stuffed animals. “We got the house ready for the party tomorrow, we baked some cookies, nothing to exciting.”

Sara yawned again. “Papa and me had mosas.”

He chuckled. “Samosas, huh? How were they?” He glanced over at Gabriel, who was grinning.

“Yummy.” She let out a bigger yawn and closed her eyes.

“You didn't go all the way to India to have them, did you?”

“Of course not.” Gabriel said, indignantly. “I made them.”

“Just checking.” Dean smiled over his daughter's head. “I'd be jealous if the two of you went over there without me.”

**

John was positive he had the wrong house as he got out of his truck and double checked the address on the invitation. It wasn't the brick, or the black shutters, or even the tall white pillars that stretched from roof to porch – it was the fact that it was so damn big. The circular drive allowed him to park and not block anyone as he made his way up the freshly shoveled walk. Rock salt crunched under his boots and there was enough of it a demon couldn't walk or cross the path – and the iron railing on the second floor balcony was also reassuring. There were only a few cars in the drive at the moment, most of them with large decal stickers marking that they belonged to a firefighter. But there was the old saying that you could never be to careful – which was why he was carrying a gift bag that contained a stuffed dog that had a hex bag inside of it. The worry he now had was if that Gabriel – thing – answered the door instead of Dean. He rang the bell once and waited. A moment later, he heard the sound of scuffling feet and then a tiny face peered out of the glass and then the door swung open. 

“Who are you?” A little girl with copper colored hair blinked at him with bright blue eyes. 

“Uh...”

“Who is it, Bug?” Dean came up behind the little girl and grinned. “You made it!” He picked the girl up, who still had a questioning look on her face as John came into the hallway. “Sara, this is my dad – your granddad.” 

The girl scrunched her nose and for a moment, John was reminded of Sam. “So you're daddy's daddy?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, a little more certainly. “And what's your name?”

She beamed in response. “My name is Sara Lissie Winwester.”

Dean set her down. “Why don't you go on back to the party, Bug?”

“Sure, daddy.” She gave John a quick hug around the legs. “Nice to meet you, granddad.” Then she turned and went back down the hallway.

“Let me take your coat.” Dean said, opening the hall closet and pulling out a hanger. Laughter carried up the hall to them. 

“Thanks.” He was still trying to get his bearings. “Uh, what's her middle name?”

“Felicity. I didn't pick it, Gabriel did.” Dean put the coat in the closet and shut the door. “We're having penne and meatballs for lunch.”

“Shouldn't that be spaghetti?” He gave his son a wry look.

“You want to watch nine kids try and eat that with any semblance of staying clean?”

“Not really.” 

“Neither does any other adult in this house.” Dean grinned and led him down the hall. “Don't look so tense – the stuff is being boiled in holy water – and the lemonade is made out of it as well.”

“That trick of Jim's actually works?”

“Pastor Jim's a lot smarter than either of us ever gave him credit for.” 

*

“You are a total mess.” Dean said to Sara as they closed the front door, waving the last of the guests, save his dad, off. “I think someone needs a bath.”

“No bath.” Sara stuck out her bottom lip. “Can't we open gifts now?” There was a definite whine to her voice.

“You're sticky.” He still thought the idea of not opening gifts in front of the guests was the best option – that way, tantrums and broken things could be avoided. 

“Not that sticky.” She grinned. “Right, granddad?”

John shook his head from the doorway to the kitchen. “I think you might need a little bit of soap and water.”

Dean crouched down so he was on almost eye-level with his daughter. “We can go upstairs, get cleaned up and come back down here and open your gifts, or you can throw a tantrum, get a bath regardless and we don't open gifts until I get home from my work shift.”

The little girl's eyes widened, a look both Winchesters recognized as 'stunned' and she bit at the corner of her lip, as if still trying to find a way out of the bath. “Can I have bubbles?”

“You going to go upstairs without a fuss?” Dean gave her a look and moment later, she took off up the stairs, almost falling halfway.

“Now, don't go hurting yourself...” He followed her. “We'll be down in just a little bit, Dad.” 

John nodded in ascent and went into the kitchen, where Gabriel was finishing up the dishes. He didn't want to know how the mess in the family room vanished so quickly. 

Gabriel waited until he heard the water running in the upstairs bathroom and then he cleared his throat. “So shall we talk about the elephant in the room or shall we just let it sit there taking up space?”

“Well, since you're too short to be a fey and they take humans out of this reality, I've come to the conclusion that you're some pagan god who doesn't eat humans.”

“Very few pagan gods eat humans. Or should I say, not many of them that are left.” He smirked. “A lot of people think I am a pagan god. I'm – complicated.” He put the leftovers in the fridge. “You want some more coffee?”

“Complicated?” John arched an eyebrow as he went over to the pot. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I don't trust you enough to tell you what I am. All you need to know is that I am harmless until you piss me off. Then you're in for it.” He ran some water in a saucepan and picked up a sponge to clean it.

“Is that supposed to make me back off?” 

“No, chuckle-head, it's a warning.” He scrubbed at a stubborn spot. “Which, for the record, I usually don't give. So consider yourself lucky.”

John took a slow sip from his mug, not entirely ready to admit defeat on the matter. He put the mug down and gathered up the rest of the dishes on the table and carried them over to the counter. “I didn't want to ask this in front of everyone – but is today Sara's actual birthday, or was this just the most convenient day for the party?”

“Her birthday is actually tomorrow.” He finished with the pan and put it in the dishwasher before turning his attention to rinsing out the cups that were stacked in the sink. “And, before you ask, she weighed five pounds, nine ounces when she was born and was nineteen inches long. Sara decided that March sixth was a better birthday than March nineteenth.”

John repressed a small chuckle as he scrapped the plates. “I take it you weren't too surprised when that happened?”

“No.” Gabriel took the plates from John and rinsed them before putting them in the dishwasher. “And in case you couldn't tell from the invitation, the decorations, her dress and the cake – she really likes the color blue.”

****

Dean grimaced as the firetruck took another sharp corner and he grasped the handle over the door and then double checked the buckles on his coat. It was going to be one of those nights, he was certain of it – they'd been traveling a little longer than normal for a fire – a sure sign this was something major. He'd only been on shift for three hours when the bell rang and the traffic wasn't making driving any easier as the horn bellowed loudly in his ears. Looking out the window, he shook his head at the motorists who weren't pulling over like they were supposed to. Assholes. “Where we going again, did you hear, Rob?”

“Milford and Buchanan. Why does that address sound familiar?” He pulled on his gloves.

Dean paused, thinking. “Dude, that's where Halifax Court is.”

“What?” The guy looked at Dean questioningly.

“It's that big shopping complex with the Target, the Best Buy – movie theater, good luck finding a parking space there any day in December.”

“Ah, shit.” The man swore. “I hope that the theater's not on fire, there's a bunch of anticipated movies that came out this weekend.”

“At least most of the stores should be closed at this hour.” He took a deep breath. “So that's some good.” He looked out the window. “Oh hell...”

“What?”

“This is going to be an ugly one.” He shook his head as the truck turned into the shopping complex was ablaze. “Really ugly.” He double checked everything as the truck he was in joined the battalion of others and then, after picking up his mask, headed out into the throng of firefighters already assembled.

*

Gabriel pushed the door of Sara's room open, his expression concerned. “What's the matter, Bug?”

The girl sniffled, her head appearing at the foot of her bed from under the covers. “There's something under my bed.” 

He saw her shuffle around under the blankets as he came over to the bed and knelt down. “What did it look like?”

“It was hairy and had fangs.” She said from under her covers.

“Sounds horrible.” He crouched down and looked under the bed. “Oh no...”

“What?” Sara sat up, her bottom lip trembling. 

“There is something down here!” He reached under the bed and grabbed the object he saw lying there. “It's a sock!” He sat up, smiling. 

The girl sniffled. “What if the something turned into the sock?” 

“Hm...” He studied the small green sock, frowning. “That's something to consider.” He pulled a serious face. “I know what sock monsters are scared of.”

“What?” Sara's eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Laundry baskets!” He looked around the room as if he wasn't sure where anything was. “Do you have one of those?”

“In the closet, Papa!” She jumped out of bed and ran across the room to open the door. “Right there!”

“Ah ha!” Gabriel crossed over to her and dropped the sock onto the small pile of laundry, noting that its mate was already in the basket. “Shut the door, quick!” 

Sara pushed the door closed and grinned. “We got the sock monster, didn't we, Papa?”

“Yes we did.” He was about to pick her up and put her back into bed when the phone in the hallway started to ring. “What in the world....” He went out into the hallway to answer it. Phone calls at two in the morning were never good – or were drunks. Gabriel already had a feeling it wasn't the later. “Hello?”

*

Pastor Jim Murphy had learned two things in the course of his priesthood that he liked to call his universal truths. The first was that any sort of disaster, be it natural or man-made, from hurricanes to wars, somehow caused the numbers of people in church on Sundays to jump dramatically. The second was that a phone call after ten at night and before six in the morning rarely brought good news. Which was why he was prepared when the phone rang at five-thirty on a still-cold Thursday morning in April. He rose from his seat at his kitchen table, brushing the crumbs from his fingers as he went across the room to pick up the receiver. “Good morning, this is Pastor Murphy.”

'This is St. Mark's Memorial Hospital in Fredricksburg, Virginia. I am trying to get in contact with a John Winchester.” A no-nonsense voice replied.

“I am afraid John is not here, but I can relay a message for him.” Jim frowned. He only knew of one person living in Virginia who would know John.

“We have his son Dean here, he was admitted several hours ago.” The woman's voice had a hint of exhaustion to it. “This number was listed of people to be contacted in the event of an emergency.”

“Yes. Is Dean all right?” Jim went to sit back down. He didn't trust himself standing at the moment.

“He's listed as being in critical but stable condition. He is currently in the ICU under sedation.”

“What happened, can you tell me?” A sick feeling twisted in the man's stomach.

“There was a five alarm fire at a shopping center – we are not certain of all the details at this time. Dean Winchester was injured in helping several people evacuate the theater.”

He picked up the pen he'd been using five minutes ago to work on his homily for this coming Sunday. “Could I please get the number for your location and what room Dean is in?”

“Of course.” The woman let out an audible sigh of relief. “If you do not minding my asking, I am unfamiliar with your area code, where are you located?”

“Minnesota.” He replied as the nurse – receptionist, whoever she was - began relaying information to him.

*

Dean felt like he was swimming up to the surface from a bottomless lake, with no idea how far he'd descended. First came the sounds, a steady beep, a low wufting sound he recognized as an air conditioner and then a soft humming he knew was Gabriel. Smell came back next – sugar and lemon, along with a whiff of strong coffee. He licked at his lips, noting they were dry, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. “Hey.”

Gabriel let out a soft laugh. “Hey yourself.” He leaned over and kissed Dean's forehead. “Welcome back, Sunshine.”

He managed a worn smile. “How long have I been out?”

“Just around sixteen hours. Had me worried for a while.” He reached out and stroked his forehead with his thumb. “You just had to be a damn hero, didn't you?”

He winced in response, slowly assessing the rest of his body. “What's up with my legs?”

“Second and third degree burns on both of them. That's the worst of your injuries. The smoke inhalation didn't help much either.”

He coughed in response. “Where am I?”

“St. Mark's. I imagine they'll transfer you to the burn center now that you're awake.”

“Peachy.” He coughed again. “I – I don't want Sara seeing me hooked up to all this.” He gave Gabriel a stern look. “She hasn't, has she?”

“No.” He let out a deep breath. “Since they don't let anyone under fourteen into the ICU, I don't think you have to worry. Maybe when you're settled somewhere else in the hospital, you'd feel up to it.”

“Yeah. Little more healed, I think.” He groaned. “Least like to be able to hug her and all.”

“No problem.” Gabriel squeezed his hand. “I think you're going to be spending the rest of your summer doing schoolwork, young man.”

He blinked tiredly. “I shouldn't want to sleep, I've been sleeping.”

“It's the pain medication.” Gabriel put a straw into a cup and held it for him. “Here, see if this helps.”

Taking a long sip from the water, he smiled, a little more certainly. “Yeah. Uh... if you're here, who's watching Sara?”

“Pastor Jim.” The angel smiled. “I think he's been waiting for that invitation since Christmas.”

“True.” 

“You know, he took the whole thing pretty well when we told him.” Gabriel blushed faintly. “If anyone you knew was going to believe me when I told them what I am, it'd be him.”

“Surprised he didn't give me an earful about our relationship afterwords.” He took another sip of water. “You know, I've never had to have skin grafts before.”

“First time for everything.” The angel sighed and set the glass back on the tray over the bed. “I'm going to call the nurse so they can get a look at you. I can tell that you don't have to be in here, but you know these medical people, for some reason they think they know everything.”

“Yeah.” Dean said, taking a few deep breaths, “I know.”

*

John inwardly cursed as he drove his truck down the interstate. He'd spent the past few days with Kate and Adam in Windom – and had turned off his phone just to avoid any hunting entanglements. He felt like a total ass when he checked his messages and found four of them – two from Pastor Jim, one from St. Mark's Hospital in Virginia and the gut wrenching one from a three year old girl saying she wanted her Paw Paw because she was scared. Not exactly the best way to endear yourself to your only grandchild. He hadn't even told Dean about Adam yet – back in March hadn't been the right time. Then again, for all he knew, Gabriel had told Dean. John was starting to think of that guy as being very similar to Sam with his secrets, but a hundred times worse because he wasn't intimidated by him. He let out a sigh of relief as he crossed the state line from Illinois into Indiana. He was halfway there. 

*

Gabriel came quietly into the house, knowing that as soon as she saw him, Sara would be insisting on seeing Dean. Not that he blamed her, she'd not seen him in almost a week – but Dean had remained adamant on being more stable and looking less horrific before he wanted his daughter visiting. What he really wanted to do was go back and fix Dean, get him better and bring him home. It wouldn't even be difficult for him, but this was one of those nasty things were if he did heal Dean, he'd have to wipe a lot of memories – if the fire had been accidental, no problem. But this was arson, and given that the bastard had already been caught and evidence was being gathered – Gabriel was never one to stand in the way of justice if it was going the way it should. If the man was going to get away with it, he'd have the asshole running from fluffy rabbits wielding machetes in a maze of boxes full of assorted junk from broken glass to carpet nails. 

The only thing Gabriel could really do was speed up Dean's recovery time by healing all infections and keeping the scar tissue down the best he could. It didn't change the fact that he wanted to bring the man home right this minute.

The kitchen smelled faintly of leftover pasta and stale coffee. Gabriel frowned and a moment later, he snapped his fingers, setting the room instantly to rights, complete with the smell of linen air-freshener. He stepped into the hallway, shaking his head at the man snoring on the couch. John Winchester was down for the count – a few DVD cases were lying on the coffee table and after glancing at the windows to check if they were secure, the archangel headed upstairs.

Pastor Jim had left two days ago, unable to be away from his parish any longer. Gabriel didn't know why John didn't take the guest room upstairs, unless he just felt safer sleeping on the first floor or something. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw that the light in the bathroom was on and a moment later, the water ran and then Sara came out into the hallway. 

“Papa!” She whispered and ran to him, arms outstretched.

Gabriel was pretty helpless when she did that. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her into her room. “Hi, Bug.”

“Daddy come home?”

“Not tonight.” He set her down on the bed. “We'll go see him tomorrow.” 

“Daddy home.” She folded her arms, pouting. “Want Daddy.”

He sighed and sat down. “I know, Sara.” 

“Fix him, Papa. Fix Daddy like you fixed my owie.” 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he wished he could – but how did you explain 'it's very complicated' to a three year old? Fixing scrapped knees was one thing, fixing severe burns another. “I can't, Bug.” He hugged her. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I just can't.” He sighed. “But, good news – Daddy wants you to come and see him tomorrow afternoon.” He could feel the joy that filled her at that.

“See Daddy tomorrow?”

“Yup.” He grinned. “We're going to see him tomorrow. So you need to get some rest so you won't be sleepy when you see him.” He tucked the covers around her, grinning as she pulled the stuffed dog from under the blankets. 

“Alec needs to breathe, Papa.” 

Gabriel grinned and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I thought Alec had his nose out the side. You and Paw Paw had pasta, huh?”

“Daddy makes it better.” She closed her eyes. 

“I know.” Gabriel stood up, checking to see she was comfortable one last time. “He'll be home soon.”

*

Dean lifted up the stiff blankets of his bed, frowning at the odd mesh bandages that were covering his legs and grimaced. It wasn't the nastiest thing he had seen in his life, but it was pretty close. He supposed that the freaky thing about the flesh under those bandages was that until two days ago – it had been on someone else's body. “Guess they take more than hearts, kidneys and shit. Probably the only thing they didn't take are bones, brains and eyes.” He thought for a moment. “They might take the eyes – and that's fucked up.” He shuddered at smoothed down the heavily starched blankets, wincing a bit as he brushed his hand over his thigh. He was two weeks into this hospital and thanks to what healing on him Gabriel could do, his hospital stay was going to be a month shorter than most people with his type of burn injuries. He just had to make it through two more weeks. He let out a deep breath as he heard two familiar voices out in the hallway and he smiled, turning towards the open doorway.

“Now, remember Sara, daddy can't get out of bed just yet.”

“Daddy's sick.” 

“Right. He's got sick legs and can't get up right now.”

Dean chuckled. When it came to explaining things to a three year old, telling them that he was 'sick' was probably the easiest way to make them understand. He looked towards the door and a moment later, Gabriel peered inside, grinning. 

“Okay, Bug, you can go in, he's awake.” 

Dean grinned and sat up a little more. “Sara, you out there?” He felt his smile falter a tiny bit when a very solemn looking girl looked in at him from around Gabriel's leg. “Sara?”

“Daddy, you look different.” 

Gabriel picked the girl up and brought her into the room, noting the concerned look on her face. “Daddy just doesn't like the food in here, that's all.” He set her down on the bed so Dean could hug her.

He gave her a good squeeze and kissed her forehead. “I've missed you, Bug.”

“Missed you, Daddy.” Sara reached out and touched the tip of his nose. “Want you better, Daddy.” She turned and looked up at Gabriel. “Can we take him home?”

“If all it took was you giving the doctors that look, we'd have him out of here in five minutes.” Gabriel took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “We have to wait a little longer.”

“Don't like waiting.” 

Dean chuckled. “How many times have you heard that phrase in the past two weeks, Gabe?”

“Around sixty times – each day.” He reached over and ruffled the girl's hair. “She's been a good kid.”

“Always good, Papa.” 

In response, both adults laughed.

**

Sam looked up from his notes as his professor came into the room. He'd actually been looking forward to this class since he heard about it as a freshman. They would be following a court case in another state, from start to finish – one that was actually happening right now, somewhere else in the country every five weeks. That meant they would follow a total of four cases before the end of the semester. The class fell silent as the professor picked up his dry-erase marker and scrawled a date on the board. _June 15, 2005 – Fredricksburg, Virginia._ He set the marker down and turned to the class. “Can anyone tell me what happened this past June on this date?”

Sam didn't have to look around to know that no one had raised their hand. He frowned, trying to remember June – but it was a haze of finishing up his gen ed classes, his job waiting tables at the Cheesecake Factory and spending time with his girlfriend, Jessica. He saw the professor frown.

“Guess summer fades the memory.” The man started to pace. “On the night of June fifteenth, a fire broke out in the Halifax Court Shopping Center. The fire was determined to have started in the Pizza Unos on one corner of complex, spreading to three stores before reaching the sixteen screen movie theater. The end result of this fire was roughly eleven million dollars in property damage, sixty-seven hospitalizations, ten of those in the ICU – and three deaths.” 

Sam was busily writing notes when he heard the professor cough and continue. 

“The fire appeared at first to be accidental – but the state of Virginia has charged the owner of the Pizza Unos, one Justin Marvin – with arson, attempted insurance fraud – and three counts of manslaughter. Who would like to remind their fellow students what the difference between murder and manslaughter is?” There was a pause. “Mr. Winchester.”

Sam's head jerked up, his involuntary reaction to being called on. “Murder is killing done with the intent to kill. Manslaughter is killing done unintentionally, such as in this case where the three victims were more than likely strangers to Mr. Marvin and just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Very good.” The professor went back to his lecture. “Though in this case, we might argue that Mr. Marvin knew there was at least a possibility of someone becoming injured – while the stores were closed, the theater was still full of people.” He began to write again. 

When the class was finally over, Sam was ready to head for the library to get books for another class when the professor waved him over. This was either something good – or something bad. “Is something wrong, Professor Benson?”

The man looked from his notes. “Are you related to a Dean Winchester of Fredricksburg, Virginia, Mr. Winchester?”

Sam blinked in surprise. “I... I don't think so – I mean, yes, I have a brother named Dean, but I've not talked to him in a while.” A feeling of panic suddenly shot through him.

“Hm.” The man stuck a folder into his briefcase. “I was merely curious, as a Dean Winchester is listed as one of the injured in this case. Your brother isn't a fireman, is he?”

“No.” He almost laughed in relief. “My brother, last time I talked to him, was tending bar in Omaha.”  
Not exactly a _complete_ lie – Dean had been busing tables in St. Louis four years ago, to get some steady income for a few weeks before the summer. As far as Sam knew, Dean was off on a hunt who knew where. 

“Well, it was just a matter of wondering.” Professor Benson suddenly turned serious. “If he was your brother, how would this case affect you?”

Sam recognized the on-the-spot tests some professors loved to throw at the students. “Well, being a relation of one of the people tied to the case, I couldn't serve as an attorney to the prosecution because of the risk of my personal feelings. I couldn't serve as defense counsel due to conflict of interest. I would also be unable to function as a member of the jury due to my inability to be impartial.”

“Very good, Mr. Winchester. That is all.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Sam shouldered his bag and headed out into the throng of students. 

***

Dean set the last of the two bags into the trunk of the Impala, slamming the lid down. It was four in the morning and today, he and Sara would start their trek across the country to California. Gabriel wouldn't be coming with them, much to his chagrin. Recent events had started to take the toll on the wards around the house and the archangel wanted to reinforce them and add new ones. Given the delicate nature of the procedure, the two humans were going on a road trip. Sara of course, just thought they were going to meet her Uncle Sammy. Dean covered a yawn as Gabriel came out of the house carrying a dozing Sara.

“I just had her use the potty, so she should be good for a few hours.” He gave the girl a hug. “Papa will come out and join you two as soon as I can, okay?”

“M'kay...” She gave him a very tired hug as he put her in her car-seat and buckled her up. 

“You be a good girl.”

“Always good.” She yawned and closed her eyes, hugging her stuffed dog. “Sleepy.”

Gabriel gave her a kiss on the cheek, set her blanket over her and shut the heavy door. “You two be careful.”

“We will.” Dean gave the angel a tight hug. “You be careful too.”

The angel gave him a swift kiss. “Careful is my middle name.”

He snorted in reply. “I thought it was trouble.”

“I have lots of middle names.” He back away from the car so Dean could walk to the driver's side. “Hopefully you can get out of Virginia before rush hour.”

“Going to try to.” He opened the door. “You going to raid the stores for candy sales in a few days?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “Don't worry, I'll make sure I snag you a few bags of Butterfingers.”

“You're too sweet.” Dean replied and got into his car and shut the door. After buckling himself in, he glanced in the backseat, where Sara was steadily yawning. “Ready to go, Bug?”

“Uh huh.” She leaned against the side of her seat, holing the edge of the blanket with her hand, her dog squashed between her and the side of the chair. “Dark.”

“Yeah it's dark.” Dean pulled out of the driveway, watching Gabriel in the rear-view mirror for a few moments before turning his attention back to the front. “You go ahead and sleep. We'll have breakfast when you wake up.”

“Waffle House?

“Sure, if we can find one.” Dean grinned and the two of them headed for the interstate.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam hated Halloween. He frowned as he upended a bag of suckers into the large bowl Jess had set out on the table for the candy. Well, staying in the apartment and answering the door to a bunch of little kids was infinitely better than going to a party in a bar. Jess had told him it had to be one or the other. She'd even come up with some silly little bingo-like game for the two of them to play while they did it – using costumes they saw at their door. First person to get a their card filled got out of answering the door for the rest of the night. Not that there were going to be many, most of the people around here were college kids, like themselves. “Can't we just make this a straight bingo, Jess? I doubt we're going to have that many kids here.”

“You never know.” Jess came out of the bedroom, rubbing her hair with a towel. “I'm actually sort of glad we're doing this instead of the party. Might actually get a few other things done.” She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “You can work on your interview stuff.”

Sam blanched at the thought. “Please, Jess – I'm nervous enough as it is.”

“You're going to do fantastic.” She hugged him and went to hang up her towel. “And you're going to knock 'em dead next week.”

“Hope so.” Sam heard the bell ring and he picked up the bowl. “You think we'll have someone dressed as a Christmas Tree again this year?”

“I'm still looking for someone dressed as Santa, or something.” She replied as Sam answered the door. 

“I think that falls under the category of some things still being sacred.” He called over his shoulder and opened the door to find five kids – each dressed as a different movie monster. At this rate, he'd finish his card in no time. 

“Trick or treat!” The kids chorused at him.

*

“This is probably going to be the last one.” Sam called over his shoulder as he headed to the door. It was nearly nine, most kids should be home by now. He picked up the bowl of suckers that was now almost completely empty, resolved that he'd just dump the entire lot into these kid's buckets and turn off the porch light. He'd definitely had enough Halloween for this year. He'd been sick of it when Jess filled her card up first an hour ago – he just wanted to call it a night. Perhaps order some pizza and later, he and Jess could engage in what she liked to call naked snuggling. He glanced out the window, saw only a flash of red. One solitary kid was about to be the recipient of eight Tootsie-pops. He swung the door open and a small fist held out an orange pumpkin bucket.

“Trick-or-treat.” A tiny girl, who couldn't even be four, judging from her size, grinned up at him. Her costume wasn't much, in fact, it was just a pair of fairy-wings over a sweatshirt – he noted that it was for the Boston Red Socks – and a tinsel halo stuck up from her copper colored hair that was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Now here's something I've not seen all night.” He dropped the rest of the candy into the girl's bucket, noting how she beamed at him when he did. “What are you dressed up as?”

“She's an undercover angel, Sammy.” The girl's father replied and Sam nearly dropped the bowl, finally looking over at the adult on the porch.

“Dean?” He blinked in utter shock, looking from the girl to his brother. 

“What do we say, Sara?”

“Thank you.” The girl pulled her candy bucket back towards her and turned to Dean. “You were right Daddy, Uncle Sammy is really tall.”

“Dean, what the hell?” He started again when the bucket of candy hit the porch and the little girl covered her ears, grimacing. “What the hell's wrong with her?”

Dean glared at him. “Since when do you talk that way in front of a kid, Sam?” He crouched down with a grunt as he helped her pick up the few pieces of spilled candy.

“Where did she come from?” Sam was still in shock.

“You don't remember where babies come from, Sammy?” Dean blinked. “What have they been teaching you out here?”

“You know what I mean.” He bent down and helped gather up the candy as well. “Sorry about that, uh... Sara, was it?”

“Uh huh.” The girl hugged her pail to her. “Thank you.” 

“I'm not having this conversation on the porch.” Sam stepped aside. “Uh, come inside.” He took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't regret this. “Jess, can you come here a minute?”

“What?” She came into the kitchen blinked. “Sam?”

“Uh, Jess – this is my brother Dean and his daughter – Sara.” Sam felt weird saying that. Dean with a kid was as hard to fathom as his dad taking him or his brother to a baseball game. He noticed that the girl kept to his brother's shadow like glue and he suddenly remembered how he used to do the exact same thing. 

Dean looked Jess over and smirked slightly. “You are way out of my brother's league.”

“Hi.” Jess gave the two a once over and then smiled at the girl. “I'll make some coffee.” 

“Thanks.” Sam turned back to his brother. “What the – are you doing here?” He stopped himself from cussing again. 

“Well, I woke up four days ago with the overwhelming urge to go see my little brother. So, here the two of us are. I was going to come by earlier, but Miss Sara wanted to watch _The Great Mouse Detective_ on the Disney Channel at the motel, and seeing how she was such a good kid on the trip over, I figured she'd earned the treat.” Dean grimaced as a spasm in his leg gave way. “Mind if we sit down?”

“Uh, sure.” Sam hastily cleared off the kitchen table, noting that Dean took the candy bucket from Sara and set it on top of the fridge before they sat down.

“Daddy...” Sara blinked. “Just once piece?”

“It's too close to bed time and I haven't gotten a chance to look at yet.” He sat down at the table. “Tomorrow, after lunch.” 

Sara huffed and climbed into another chair. “Don't have to like it.”

“Don't have to like it what?” Sam looked confused as he carried two cups of coffee over to the table, followed by Jess, who sat in the fourth chair.

“She'll go along with what I told her, but she doesn't want to.” He grinned knowingly as the girl let out a huge yawn. “We won't stay all that long, it's almost this girl's bedtime.”

“Uh...” Sam looked from the girl to his brother. “Does she need a glass of milk, or something?”

Dean gave him a look. “She almost four, Sammy. You can ask her if she wants something.” 

Jess snorted into her mug, rather amused. “I think we have some milk in the fridge.” 

“Milk works.” Dean replied. “Sound good to you, Bug?”

Sara nodded, yawning again. “Please.”

“She always this polite?” Sam was rather amused.

“Most of the time.” Dean pulled the tinsel halo from the girl's hair. “Like I was saying, sorry I didn't stop by sooner.”

Jess set a glass of milk in front of the girl. “There you go.” She went and got her own cup of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Sara replied with a tired smile.

Sam watched as the girl took the glass in both hands, drinking carefully and decided to change the subject from the lack of communication. Not knowing he was uncle to an almost-four year old was rather – upsetting. Something that important and big? He deserved a call for something like that. “Uh, you said it took four days to get here?”

“Yeah.” Dean took a sip of coffee. “Came from the other side of the country.” He checked his daughter out of the corner of his eye. “We'll be in town a few days and then we'll head home.”

“Home?” Sam would have snorted if Jess hadn't been in the room. 

“Yeah.” Dean set the mug down. “You look good, Sammy.”

“It's Sam.” He responded. “Sammy is a chubby twelve year old.”

“I think I'll let the two of you play catch up.” Jess stood up, noting the rather tense atmosphere. She turned and looked at Sara. “You want to come in the other room and watch a movie?”

The girl shook her head, pulling on her bottom lip, giving the young woman an uncertain look. 

“We can't stay much longer.” Dean replied and then glanced at his daughter. “She's also a little shy around strangers, so it's nothing personal.”

“I understand. It was nice meeting the two of you.” Jess took her cup and left the room. 

“Dean, seriously – why are you here?” Sam just wanted his brother to get to the damn point and be done with it. “Dad send you out here?”

“No, he doesn't even know where I am.” He frowned. “Dad said he was headed to Montana last time I talked to him. That was Sunday.”

“He let you go off on a hunting trip alone?” Sam couldn't believe this. “Why the hell do you have the kid with you?” He saw the girl's hands fly up and cover her ears again. “Does she do that all the time when someone curses in front of her?”

“Usually.” He pushed the mug away. “I can see you're not in the mood to talk.” He stood and picked Sara up, who made a whimper of protest. 

“Not finished with my milk, daddy.”

“It's okay, Bug.” He shifted the girl's weight on his arm, ignoring the spasm of pain in his legs. Even with some 'help' from Gabriel, he still had issues with the scar tissue. Four days in a car had aggravated it even more. 

“Dean...” Sam couldn't think what he'd said set to set his brother off exactly. This wasn't the same Dean he remembered from four years ago. “It's – well, something like this...” He indicated Sara. “That warrants a call, doesn't it?”

“If I'd have called, would you have answered?” Dean shook his head, looking worn out. “No, you're not in the mood for all this, I can see that.” He adjusted his hold on his daughter and headed for the door. “It was nice meeting you, Jess.” He called towards the family room.

“Dean...” Sam was halfway out of his chair and across the room when his older brother shut the door behind him. He frowned, staring at the closed door. “What in...” He was about to sit back down when he caught sight of Sara's bucket, still on top of the fridge. “Damn!” He grabbed it and headed for the door. The kid should at least get her candy. Just as he opened the door, he heard the rumble of the Impala's motor as it started up and took off down the road. Apparently Dean had been parked close by. He shook his head and shut the door. 

“Sam?” Jess came back into the room, confused. “What happened?”

Sam set the bucket of candy on the table, noting how light it was. “I'm not quite sure.” He rubbed his eyes. “You mind if we wait to order pizza until tomorrow night?”

“Not a problem.” Jess went to lock the door and turn out the porch light. 

*

Gabriel let his hands fall to his sides as he looked around the now re-warded house. It taken four and a half days, but he'd gotten it done. No demon, no angel, no pagan could get inside unless he or Dean let them in. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the sharp smell of frankincense and pine. He stretched, letting the accumulated grime and sweat fade from his body and clothes and then, knowing the house was secure, flew away from Virginia to land softly in a motel room in California. His smile strengthened at the sight that greeted him. In the bed nearest the window, he could just make out the tiny girl under the covers. A discarded pair of costume wings and a halo were lying on the table. Dean was snoring softly in the bed nearest the door. He sat down on Sara's bed with a sigh. “You should be sleeping, Bug.”

“Was sleeping.” The girl yawned. “Heard you come in, Papa.”

“No bad dreams?” Gabriel picked up the stuffed dog that had fallen to the floor and replaced it.

“No,” She hugged her plush animal to her. “I lost my candy.”

“Did you?” He was a little surprised she didn't sound upset – then again, she was half asleep. “Do you remember where?”

“It's at Uncle Sammy's house.” She yawned again. 

“Well, we'll stop by tomorrow and pick it up, okay? I don't think your uncle would eat your candy.” He reached down and started to unlace his shoes. “Did daddy dress you up as an angel?”

“I was an undercover angel,” she grinned proudly. “Lots of people said I was cute.”

“Well, that's no secret.” He took off his shoes. “You get some sleep – tomorrow how about you and I go find a park so daddy can get some work done?”

“With swings?” 

He could hear the eagerness in her voice. “You bet.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Sleep now.”

“G'nite Papa.” She smiled and closed her eyes. 

“Night, Bug.” He got up from the bed and set his shoes next to Dean's. After scanning the room quickly and taking note of their neighbors – an elderly couple in the room on the other side of the beds and a family of five on the other side of the TV – he got into the bed Dean was in, lying between him and the wall. 

“That you?” Dean mumbled sleepily. “Thought I smelled chocolate.”

The angel chuckled and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Dean.” He closed his eyes and let his breathing fall even. He just needed to rest. A moment later he heard Sara get out of her bed and then another rustle of covers.

“Something wrong, Bug?” Dean said, half asleep.

“No fair me sleepin' alone.” 

Dean chuckled. “You never do this at home.” He said with a yawn.

“We're not at home, Dean.” Gabriel said, half laughing. “Go to sleep, the both of you or I'll put you to sleep.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel, who's eyes were half open. “We'll get you for that in the morning, won't we Sara?”

“Sleepy time, daddy.”

“Yeah. Sleepy time.” He reached under his pillow and moved the heavy knife so that it was under Gabriel's instead. “Now I can sleep.” 

The angel was about to respond when he sensed Sara had fallen into slumber, followed shortly by Dean. “How do you two do that?” He smiled, rested his head against Dean's back, listening to the two most important human beings in his life sleep. 

As much as he was loathed to admit it, deep down, Gabriel knew this couldn't last. 

**

Orders were meant to be followed, not questioned. That was the way angels lived. Free Will was for humans, not for celestial beings. Not even demons were bequeathed such a luxury, no matter how they claimed they had it. At the end of the day, they still followed orders. Twisted, sick, disgusting orders that were abominations, but orders nonetheless. Free Will was for most humans. Some humans were bound to Fate and Destiny as much as angels. Altering well laid plans wasn't done. 

Michael couldn't believe what his little brother had gotten involved in. What his little brother had created – human born Nephilim weren't normal beings – they would never have the powers an angelic born Nephil would. They were pretty much humans with powerful immune systems and an endless capacity to learn. He could tolerate the girl's existence – but only as much as orders allowed. But it still didn't change the fact that Gabriel had altered the Plan. He had no choice but to restore things back to the way they should be. It would be quite simple, really. He would just need to get Sam and Dean Winchester on the road hunting and heading forward. Once that was done, Gabriel and the girl could go off wherever they wanted – Michael really didn't give a shit. 

“You summoned me?” A voice cut into the archangel's musings and he turned.

“Yes. Castiel, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir.” The angel straightened himself, standing at attention.

“I have work for you.” He smiled. “A simple, necessary task.”

“I am at your disposal, Michael.” 

“I need you to take the youngest Winchester away from her family and place her next door.” 

The lesser angel frowned, thinking. “What do you mean, next door?”

“Yes, the next reality over. Leave her near the Gabriel in _that_ reality and then return back here.” Michael smiled. “She should be quite safe – but don't drop her off in this year, go ahead a few.”

Castiel nodded. “Should I take a vessel for this?”

“Yes. But be quick about it.” The archangel turned back to the large table behind him and began looking over scrolls. “Do not harm anyone in the place where you find the girl.”

“Understood.” With a flash and a flutter, the angel was gone. 

**

Dean spent the next morning feeling pretty lousy. Truth was, he hadn't exactly planned on how he was going to talk to Sam. They hadn't seen or talked in four years, it wasn't like they could just pick up where they left off. To much had happened. He stared blankly at the screen of his laptop, wondering if he was allowed to be borderline gory in his assignment for Creative Writing. He hadn't even wanted to get a minor in English – but his Criminal Law major stated he had to have a minor of some kind – and English seemed like the easiest one to bullshit his way through. It wasn't like his professor was going to _know_ what the hell a wendigo was. He just had to make sure he didn't accidentally name any of the victims after classmates. With Gabe and Sara out for a few hours, he was determined to get as much work done as he could. He was halfway through the part where his hero was about to roast the monster extra-tasty crispy when his cell phone went off, jarring him from his work. “Damn it.” He flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

“Dean?” Sam's voice replied.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.” He coughed. “Look, sorry about last night. I just – I mean, it's been four years, I really didn't expect you to show up like you did.”

“Never was one for being subtle, you know that.” Dean hit the save button on his computer and stood up. “But you had a point, I should have called.”

“It's okay. It – uh, do you think you and Sara could come over for dinner tonight? I mean, we could talk then. I've got some stuff I need to do and...”

“Dinner sounds great. There will be three of us, is that good?”

“Three?” Sam sounded a little surprised. “Sure – uh, Sara likes pizza, doesn't she?”

“Pizza's good.” Dean walked over to the window. “How have you been?”

“Not bad. I've got an interview next Monday.”

“What kind of interview?”

“Law school.” Sam sighed. “If it goes well, I'm looking at a full ride.”

“That's awesome, Sammy.” He parted the curtain enough to look outside and then went back towards the table. “Hope you get it.”

There was a soft sound that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sound of relief. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He sat back down at the table and typed a few more lines. “What, you think I was going to drag you off on some hunt or something?”

“Well, kind of – first time in four years and all that...”

Dean chuckled. “I can see your point. I don't do much hunting myself anymore – sort of changed when I became a parent.”

“Dad let you quit hunting?” Sam sounded shocked.

“Well, more like I vanished for three years and by the time we crossed paths again, I knew I couldn't go back to living that way.”

“Shit.” There was a scraping sound. “So what did you do for three years?”

“It's complicated. Even for us.” Dean wasn't ready to tell Sam everything about what happened.

“Uh, you haven't been fighting fires, have you?” 

Dean was glad he was sitting down. “Say that again?”

“Fighting fires... uh....” Sam made a choking noise. “You have, _haven't_ you?”

“How did you know that?” He frowned. This was getting a little creepy.

“State of Virginia vs Justin...”

“That asshole.” He should have known his brother was following all the court cases he could, or something. “That shopping center was a fucking nightmare.” 

“Hell.” Sam swallowed. “But – you're doing better, right?” 

He grinned slightly – Sam still knew better than to ask if he was okay. “I'm much better than I was a few weeks ago. Did you know they take practically every organ they can when someone signs up to be an organ donor?” He let out a soft chuckle. “I'm never going to have hair on my legs again – but that's better than having no legs – so there you go.”

“Damn. I thought you walked a little stiff last night.” Sam paused. “Uh, if you're not working a case, what are you typing?”

“Story for Creative Writing.” He snorted. “And before you say anything, the alternative to this class was Nineteenth Century Women Writers. No way was I going to take a class for chicks.” 

“You're in college now?” Now Sam had gone from surprised to stunned. “Dean, what the hell?”

“Told you, a lot changed in the past few years. The injuries messed me up pretty good back in June – can't do a lot of the physical stuff anymore – so I'm working towards a career in arson investigation.”

“Shit, Dean.”

“You're going to watch the cursing around Sara, aren't you?” He let his 'big brother' tone slip into his voice. 

“Yeah. Never pegged you for a student, that's all.” 

“Well, you liked school more.” He grinned. “Speaking of – I had to take a psychology class as some stupid gen-ed requirement... did you?”

“Uh, maybe – why?” Sam sounded worried all of a sudden.

“Did you have as much fun as I did freaking out your professor when they gave a lecture on parapsychology?” He started to chuckle as he heard Sam start to laugh.

“Ruined the curve on the test with that one myself.” He cleared his throat, a gesture Dean knew that it meant Sam was trying to calm down. “Uh, so dinner – is there anything Sara's allergic to or won't eat?”

“She eats pretty much everything – she particularly likes that Hawaiian style pizza that you always seem to want.”

“She knows what good pizza is.” Sam said, a hint of indignation in his voice. “You said there would be three of you for dinner?”

“Yeah.” Dean saved his work again.

“What's her name?”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was so used to people knowing about him and Gabriel it was a bit jarring when someone asked who the third member of the family was. “ _His_ name is Gabriel.”

“Hi – oh.” Sam paused. “This is really complicated, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “I'll explain it all tonight.” He turned towards the door when he heard the unmistakable sound of Sara crying. “I've got to go.”

“Sure. See you tonight.” 

“Yeah.” He hung up the phone and opened the door just as Gabriel reached it, holding a sobbing three year old who looked more scared than hurt. “What happened?”

The angel moved over to one of the beds, sitting down and adjusting the girl, who was holding onto him for dear life. “We have a problem.”

Dean came over and sat down next to them, setting a hand on Sara's arm. “Is she hurt?”

“No, just good and scared.” He hugged her close, her wails changing to whimpers. “This is partially my fault. I should have checked into things before I got here.”

“Fish.” Dean muttered under his breath. “Demons?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed Sara's back. “We ran into one of them in the park. Trouble with smiting is – you always risk injuring other people if they're around.”

“Why do I get a feeling this is going to get worse?” He leaned over and grabbed the box of tissues on the table between the bed and started to wipe Sara's cheeks.

“The demon in question is in one of Sam's friends.” Gabriel shook his head. “I knew it was a good thing I went and put up those wards on his apartment before I came here.”

“So Sam and Jess should be safe?”

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “I'll step out during dinner and take care of the problem. Thankfully, there's just one demon in town – and it's not you-know-who.”

Sara made a gulping noise. “Scary man.”

“Yes, very scary.” Gabriel hugged her. “I saw him too. Don't you worry. You're safe.”

“Still scary.” She shifted and held her arms towards Dean.

He took her from Gabriel and she settled into his lap. “You don't think he left, do you?”

“No, he's still around. But odds are, he's contacted his boss.” The angel let his shoulders slump slightly. “I guess it's a small blessing that he knows better than to try and fight me.”

“So you're just gonna...” Dean let out a low breath. “It's all going to boil over soon, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel took a deep breath and smoothed down Sara's hair. “I'm afraid Sam's not going to like getting dragged into one last hunt.”

“One last hunt is better than spending the rest of our lives doing it.” Dean managed a smile. “Given what you told me about the plans, this is nothing compared to what some people want to happen.” He slowly frowned. “Which makes me wonder – what if someone else – on the other side has issues with this?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “My brothers need to learn to grow up. If Mike and Raph are that bored, they should just go on a smiting spree, perform some minor miracles like the Cubs winning the Series, and call it a Century.”

“The Cubs winning the Series would be a _minor_ miracle?” Dean snorted. “I don't believe it.”

“Of course you don't.” He leaned over and ruffled the man's hair. “Which is why you're still shocked Boston won last year.” He started to chuckle.

Sara rubbed the side of her face and yawned. “Go Sox.” 

Dean shook his head. “I've told you Sara, it's go _Cards._ ” 

The girl pursed her lips, looking from her daddy to her papa. “Still waka waka Jayhawk?”

Dean laughed. “Yes, it's still Rock Chalk Jayhawk.” 

*

“Did you get any work on your story?” Gabriel glanced in the backseat to check on Sara, who was more interested in the passing scenery – and humming softly instead of her usual talkative nature. She was much calmer than she had been earlier today, the nap had helped - but he knew she was still a little unnerved from the incident this morning.

“Yeah. Nearly finished with it – just hope it goes over better than the first one I wrote for the class.” Dean shook his head. “I thought it was pretty good.”

“It was good. It's not your fault the professor failed to think a story about a kid's daydreams on a long car trip was incredible. Odds are, if you weren't a guy, she'd have loved it.” He shook his head. “I thought it was brilliant.”

“Yeah, well – maybe she's never been on a serious road trip.”

“I don't think anyone has been on a serious road trip as you have been on, Dean.” Gabriel gave him a sideways grin. “What do you see out there, Sara?”

“The trees here are funny looking.” She frowned. “Still green but they don't look like Christmas Trees.”

“You're not already thinking about Christmas, are you?” Dean said, grinning.

“No, daddy. But the trees that look like Christmas trees at home are always green. It's not still summer here, is it?”

“No.” The angel laughed. “It just says warmer here longer, so the trees stay green.”

*

Sam had used up his nervous energy to clean. He couldn't remember the last time the apartment had been _this_ spotless. He wasn't even sure _why_ he cleaned the place up. Heck, Dean had been in the kitchen last night when it was a mess and he hadn't given a damn. He was still trying to get over the fact that Dean had a kid – he did have to wonder where her mother was – and the fact that he'd not been told. Then again, keeping secrets, even from each other, was a common Winchester practice. 

“Sam, if you don't sit down soon, I'm going to tie you to a chair.” Jess came into the kitchen where Sam kept wiping up invisible crumbs on the counter from the looks of things.

“I – I just want things to be nice.” 

“Sam, calm down...” She said, a laugh in her voice. “We're going to be putting pizza boxes on the counter anyway, so if there's anything there, it'll get covered up.”

“Jess...” His next words were cut off as she kissed him.

“Calm down. It's going to be just fine.” She pulled away from him as there was a knock on the door. “I'll get it.” She went over to the door and after glancing out the window, she opened it. “Hello again.” 

“Hi, Jess.” Dean replied. “My brother's been driving you crazy today, hasn't he?”

“Dean!” Sam shouted from inside the apartment.

Jess laughed and stepped aside to let the trio in. “How did you know?”

“I recognized his stressed voice when I talked to him on the phone.” He replied.

She chuckled and turned to the shorter man who'd accompanied Dean. “You must be Gabriel.”

“Gabe, it's easier.” He held his hand out for her to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Jess took note of the box resting on his other arm. “You didn't need to bring anything.”

The man grinned. “It is poor manners to be invited to dinner and to only bring one's appetite.” He replied as he shook Sam's hand as well. “Dean's told me a lot about you.”

“Don't believe half of it.” Sam felt his ears turn pink.

Jess had taken the white box from Gabriel and had set it on the counter. “What's in here?” She said to Sara, who seemed to be stuck to the man like a second shadow. 

“We got cookies.” She beamed up at her, “The really good kind made with hassle-nuts.”

“Hazelnuts?” Jess grinned. “If these are the kind I think they are, you've picked one of my favorites.”  
In response, Sara grinned at her. 

*

“Well,she's down for the count.” Dean set Sara down on the couch, covering her with a blanket. “She should be good there for a while.”

“If you guys want to stay the night, that's fine.” Sam said, keeping his voice down. “Jess and I usually sleep pretty late on Sunday, so it's not a problem.”

“Well, Gabe should be back pretty soon.” They went back into the kitchen. “Guess Jess wanted to call it a night early too.”

Sam chuckled in response. “More like retired to give you and me some privacy to get caught up.” 

“Well, you'd know better than I would.” They both sat back down at the kitchen table. “Uh, I've got to let you in on some really – insane shit here.”

“Okay, that sounds scary.” Sam replied, taking a sip from his beer.

“Yeah.”Dean managed a weak grin. “Uh – you want crazy, crazy on top of strange or crazy with a side order of you're not going to believe this first?”

“Crazy on top of strange.” Sam shrugged. “Sounds the safest.”

“Okay.” Dean took a sip from his own beer before responding. “The answer to that is, Gabriel's not human.”

Sam stared at him. “What?”

“Yeah, I know, Dad's aware of the whole situation, well, not all of it but most of it.” He sighed.

“So what is he?”

“That Sammy, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.” He set the bottle down and rubbed the back of his head. “Let's just put it as he's not dangerous until you piss him off. Which, given the stuff he's told me he's done, is a strong motivator to stay on his good side.”

“I take it this somehow ties into who Sara's mother is.” That was the one question Sam really wanted answered. He'd pretty much guessed that whoever she was, something bad had happened to her and he'd rather know and not accidentally say something he should have kept silent about.

“Sara doesn't have a mother, Sam.” Dean took a sip of beer.

“I kind of figured, since you're with Gabe and all.. but uh – what happened to her?”

“She never had one.” He took a deep breath. “Not a mother-mother, at least.” 

“I'm confused.” Sam frowned. “She had to have had a mother at some point, right?”

“Well, technically she did – but when she was born she had two dads.” Dean took a deep breath. “I'll just say it – if you want to talk in scientific terms, I'd be Sara's mom.”

“That's impossible.” Sam folded his arms. “You honestly expect me to believe you gave birth to her?”

“Dad believed it.” He took a sip of beer. “I'll go back to the beginning with this, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Sam shifted in his seat as his brother cleared his throat.

*

“You are one sick bastard.” Gabriel casually tossed the tracking coin he'd pulled from under Sam's couch into the air and caught it. “You know that?”

The demon that was bound under an Enochian Devil's Trap chuckled. “Look who's talking. Fucked any pagans lately?”

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. “Are you just trying to add torture to your wish list?” His fist closed around the coin and in an instant, it shattered into dust. “Because I've got no issue with breaking every bone in your body one at a time. Starting with the least vital and working my way up.”

Tyson Brady smirked. “You know, I'm not alone in here.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday? That poor boy you've been riding for two years is practically _begging_ for release. Furthermore, I'd haul his soul out of that body and lock you in it before I got started.”

“So go ahead and smite me already.” The demon snarled.

“I'm not done playing Twenty Questions.” He started to pace across the barn where he was holding the demon captive. “I know you've already called your boss. If you think he's going to come and save your ass, you better think again.”

“If I die, I can be replaced.” He snorted. “My sister's already out and about, waiting for further orders.”

“You're assuming the plans are still going to be carried out.” Gabriel made a slashing movement with his hand a moment later, he felt the possessed boy's soul slip free from his body, bound for Heaven. “Now that you're all nice and alone in there -” His words were cut off as he sensed something – or rather, _someone._

“You didn't say you had a friend.” For the first time, the demon actually sounded scared. 

“I don't.” He glanced back at the demon and frowned. What would an angel be doing down here when last time Gabriel checked, nearly everyone in Heaven was under orders not to come down here. He quickly stepped into the trap and pressed his hand against the demon's face barely even registering the scream that followed as flesh began to burn. He took two steps back, prepared to fly out of the barn and back to where Dean and Sara were when he felt a hand seize the back of his neck and throw him to the ground with practiced ease.

“Well now – what, _exactly_ do you think you're doing Gabriel?” 

The archangel swallowed hard. He was staring up into the face of John Winchester – but John wasn't the one in control. “Michael.” 

“You could at least make it sound like you missed me.” He grabbed Gabriel by the front of his shirt and flew off, leaving only the faint scent of burnt ozone – which was lost amid the smell of burning flesh.

*

“So that's the whole story?” Sam's mind was still reeling from everything.

“More or less.” Dean set his now empty beer bottle down, frowning as he checked his watch. “Guess Gabe's having a little to much fun with that demon he caught.”

“I'm still trying to register the fact that Brady's been possessed this long.” Sam stood and went over to the sink. “I can't believe I didn't notice it.”

“You weren't looking.” Dean stood up and started clearing off the table. “Just start keeping holy water around and having people drink it. Or else start putting devil's traps under your rugs.”

“I still haven't told Jess about the whole monster thing.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “I swore I was done hunting.”

“This isn't exactly a hunt we're heading towards.” Dean folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “More like a showdown.” He shook his head. “You can go back to normal by Thursday. Can you stand four days of weird?”

Sam heaved a sigh. “Well, for a lifetime of normal, I suppose I can.” He managed a weak grin. “I knew it was a good thing I opted to have that interview next week.” 

“Yeah – guess it was...” He frowned and turned as the glasses on the counter began to rattle. “Earthquake?”

Sam frowned and stepped towards the family room. “No – feels more like a really powerful wind.” 

Dean followed his brother as the shaking seemed to increase. “Feels a little to strong to be wind.” The television kicked on, followed by the radio. “Not good – not good -” He took a step into the family room just as Sara sat up, looking around.

“Stop yelling!” She hugged her stuffed dog to her. “You're gonna hurt my daddy and uncle's ears!”

“Sara!” Dean took a step towards her when the television exploded outwards and a form appeared on the other side of the couch. “No!” Just as he and Sam started to move, they were thrown back against the wall and the man picked Sara up effortlessly.

“Put me down!” Her voice was full of panic, one of her legs made contact with the man's leg, but he didn't register the contact.

“Let her go!” Dean staggered to his feet and just as he took a step, the man vanished, taking Sara with him. “NO!” He ran across the room, cold dread filling his heart. 

The bedroom door slammed open as light flooded the room. “What the hell was that?” Jessica looked from Sam to Dean, who was shaking.

“Nothing good.” Sam swallowed and went to Dean, judging his brother's need more pressing than his girlfriend's. He helped his shaking brother sit on the couch, taking a few deep breaths. “Dean, listen to me. We're going to get her back.”

Dean shakily nodded. “Gabe will be back soon. I just...” He suddenly broke into tears and leaned against him. “It took my baby girl, Sammy.”

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around Dean. “Jess, uh...”

She blinked a few times and then swallowed. “Coffee?” Jess knew it sounded weak, but really, what else was there to say?

“Yeah. Extra strong.” Sam swallowed hard, wishing Gabriel would hurry up and get his ass back here.

****

Gabriel looked down at the now extinguished Holy-Oil ring, still not quite ready to move from where he was standing. He'd stopped the fire alarm already, but water still gushed from the sprinklers above him. His clothes were soaking, but of course, the cold didn't register – not completely. He had just been called a coward by a human. He was loathed to admit it, but Dean Winchester had a point. He just wanted it to be over – he'd not been given a role in the Apocalypse – he wondered if Raphael ever felt cheated out a part to play. Then again, Raphael was Mike's little sycophant, so as long as he got to smite some demons, he'd not put up much fuss. A loud bang snapped him from his thoughts and he turned as he felt a flash of Grace that strangely, felt like Castiel – but not quite him. In a heartbeat, the Grace was gone and he was alone. “Odd.” He stepped away from where he'd been imprisoned towards where he'd felt the Grace and as he came around a pile of crates, he stopped short.

Lying on the ground was a Nephilim girl, around three or four years old. Her amber colored hair fanned around her head like a halo and she was clutching a stuffed dog for dear life, her eyes scrunched tight. “Put me back!” 

“Hey.” He bent down and touched her shoulder and that caused the girl to jump to a sit and open her eyes. “You okay?”

The girl blinked at him, her blue eyes half afraid, half confused. “Papa, you look funny.”

That made Gabriel start. “What do you mean I look funny?” Great, a Nephilim who called him Papa. Maybe Lucifer had just pulled him into a fun house of his own. Being faced with a Nephilim who called him a parent would definitely rate on the nightmare scale.

“You look...” The girl clutched her dog tighter, biting her lip. “Sad.” She looked up. “Rain?”

Gabriel held out his hand, made a small gesture and the sprinklers went off. “Just water.” He turned his attention back to her. Whatever the Grace had been – it'd left this girl behind. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“No owies.” She swallowed. “Scary angel grabbed me Papa. Daddy's gonna be worried.” 

Oh this was just getting better by the second. Wherever this girl had come from, he was apparently playing house with her and some human. “We'll get you home as soon as we can, okay?”

She gave him another look, standing up and biting at her thumb. “You look like my Papa.” She reached out with her hand and touched his cheek for a moment. “You feel different.” She smiled uncertainly. “But you got the same wings.” 

Gabriel gave the girl the most reassuring smile he could. “I'll help you find your way home, in fact, as soon as we figure out where you belong, I'll take you there myself. Okay?”

“Okay.” The girl hugged her dog tighter and at the same time, yawned. “Still sleepy.”

The angel chuckled and shook his head. “Let's get out this place first, then you can lie down for a while. I imagine you've had quite the trip.”

“Yeah.” She yawned again.

“Well, all right then, Shorty.” He held his hand out and the girl took it. “How old are you?” They started towards the exit.

“I'm three and a half.” She made a half-hearted attempt to splash one of the puddles and Gabriel didn't bother to tell her not to – he figured she'd been through enough he could deal with a little more wet. He was glad that the girl wasn't soaking.

“Oh, so you're an almost-big girl.” He held onto her hand tighter as he shifted them away from the factory to a deserted alleyway in Philadelphia, one state over from the factory, registering the fact she didn't panic. “Do your papa and daddy call you Shorty?”

“No, they call me Bug – most of the time.”

“Well, I can see where they get that.” Gabriel strengthened his hold on her hand as he shifted again and they were in a heavily warded apartment. He was glad he'd taken the foresight to dry their clothes during the journey. “Bug isn't your real name, is it?”

An honest smile suddenly spread across the girl's face and Gabriel thought for a moment she was going to laugh. “No, silly!” She grinned. “My name is Sara Felicity Winchester.” She then held out the stuffed dog with both hands. “And this is Alec.”

Gabriel had no idea how the girl couldn't react to the look on his face. Clearly, wherever this girl was from, it wasn't a world in the middle of an Apocalypse. Odds were, one wasn't going to even happen where she belonged. He swallowed and crouched back down to her level. “It's nice to meet you, Sara Bug,” he shook the dog's paw, “and you too, Alec.”

Sara giggled in response and hugged the dog back to her. “Alec doesn't talk to anybody but me.” 

“I see.” Gabriel stood up. This was just getting more and more fucked up. An hour ago, he'd faced the Winchesters and had told himself that he was going to avoid them as long as he could. Now he was going to have to find the Chuckle-heads again – because he was going to need their help to find out where Sara belonged. He just hoped the brothers weren't going to be annoyingly thickheaded and stubborn about helping a kid as they were about the Apocalypse. Then again, they were always about saving people. Actually, finding them wouldn't be too hard at all. He knew right where he'd have to go. “Still tired?”

“Yeah.” She shuffled over to the couch and sat down. “Can I sleep now?”

“Sure.” He watched her kick off her shoes and socks and lie down, still hugging the dog. He pulled a blanket from the back of the arm chair and put it over her. “Don't you worry, Sara Bug – I'll have you back home before you know it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was in full-on panic mode. Gabriel was over an hour late getting back, he wasn't answering his phone and even when he flat out asked for him to show up – even going so far as to call him a feather-brain – he still didn't come. He wasn't sure how much coffee he had drunk in the past two hours, or even what was going on other than the fact he was sitting at a kitchen table, waiting for something to happen. He could only guess at what might have taken Sara, each as unlikely as the next. He took a small sip from his mug, his hands shaking. “This – wasn't supposed to happen.”

“You said this place was warded?” Jessica was taking a lot of things in stride this evening. Monsters. Demons. Angels. It sounded so impossible but at the same time explained a lot of the issues Sam seemed to not be willing to talk about. 

“Yeah.” Sam kept a hand on Dean's arm more out of keeping his brother from flying off to do something stupid than anything. He'd just had the one conversation he'd _never_ wanted to have with Jessica, but it had to be done. “Nothing should have been able to get in here – that I know of.” He swallowed. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Dean let out a long breath. “No demons or anything in that category.”

“What was that loud ringing noise?” Jessica frowned. “That's actually what woke me up.”

“I don't know.” Sam frowned. “I think whoever that guy was caused it.” 

Dean's eyes slowly narrowed. “Sara didn't hear it as ringing - I think she heard it as words. She told whoever it was to stop yelling.”

“Why could she hear it and not us?” Sam took a drink from his mug. “Unless - what if _that_ was another angel?”

“Why would an angel take Sara?” Dean clenched his hand into a fist. “That makes....” He lowered his head. “Oh shit. Shit and double shit.” 

“That – sounds like really bad news.” Sam wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. His safe world had already imploded last night – he was still pissed at himself for not at least being careful in his safe world. Forgetting to do basic precautions – and those mistakes were starting to cost him. “Dean, exactly how bad is this going to get?”

“It was supposed to be so fucking simple.” He jerked away from his brother, stood up and started to pace. “We were going to come here, summon that yellow-eyed bastard Azazel, end his existence and we all go back to our own parts of the world with plans to get together for Thanksgiving. Gabe and I weren't counting on the angels throwing a monkey wrench into the plans.” He paused, grabbing the counter by the sink and taking a deep breath. “Killing _that_ demon would effectively end its plans.”

“I'm confused, why would the angels care if Azazel got killed?” Sam frowned. “I thought that would be a good thing.”

“Azazel's job is to get Lilith and a bunch of other demons out of Hell. Lilith's job is to get _Lucifer_ out of Hell – I don't know how she's supposed to do it, just that she is. That's something the angels _do_ want.”

“Why would they want that?” Jess tightened her grip on her coffee mug. “Are they trying to end the world or – something?”

“Something.” Dean sank back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. “It still doesn't explain why they'd take Sara.”

“I'm going to take a wild guess that whatever the angels have planned, Gabriel really doesn't like it.” Sam blinked a few times. “I'm having trouble believing we're having this conversation – I think my beliefs on what angels are is going the way of Santa Claus.”

“You're right Sammy – Gabe's of the opinion that mankind should get the chance to improve itself a little longer. Because as he puts it, event the dinosaurs got a few million years.” Dean leaned back in his chair, rubbing his fingers slowly. “Wish he'd get back here.”

“I'm afraid my brother will not be rejoining you this evening.” A voice from the doorway caused all three of them to jump and turn.

“Dad?” Sam said, confused.

“Oh, I'm afraid John's unavailable for comment at the moment.” The man stepped into the kitchen, looking the trio over with an obvious look of disdain. “Gabriel has behaved quite badly, so for lack of a better term, he is currently in time-out.”

“Where's Sara?” Dean spat, his anger starting to build again.

“She's alive – but out of the way, which is exactly what I need.” He shrugged. “What I need is for the two of you to get back to what you're _supposed_ to be doing. Which is hunting.” He leaned against the counter, his expression uncaring and unemotional. “You two go, actually, all three of you can go, I don't care. Just that you do go.”

“What does hunting have....” Sam's words were cut off as a mind-blinding pain laced through him and he doubled over, holding his stomach.

“Sammy?”

“Sam!” Jess put her hand on his back and looked up at the man just as Dean stood up.

“What did you do to my brother and what did you do to my dad?” In that instant, Dean knew who he was facing. “Michael.”

“Your dad's fine.” The angel smiled. “And how nice, you know who I am.” He turned to Sam and his eyes narrowed. “You keep your mouth shut, Samuel. I don't want to hear you.” 

Sam hacked and was able to sit up, Jess's hand still on his back. “Augh...” He then coughed a few more times.

“I can see you three are all a bit – overemotional at the moment. Since Azazel _does_ have have one very accomplished apprentice to pick up were he to die, I have no problem going and fulfilling my end of the bargain I made with John. I will be back in two days – I suggest you give me the answer I want, or you will not like what will happen next.” He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. “I've not had the opportunity to cause a major earthquake since Antioch.” 

Dean wasn't sure what was on Sam and Jess's faces, but apparently, combined with his, it greatly amused the archangel.

“And that's just the first day, boys. What's one more hurricane this year, anyway?” 

“What the f...” Dean was out of his chair and halfway across the kitchen when Michael vanished. “Damn it!”

**

Gabriel hacked once before he opened his eyes. Just seeing the ornate marble floor was enough to tell him where he was. He grimaced and slowly raised his head to see that he was alone in the room. He heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, easing the pain in his arms and wings, all of them were bound to the high ceiling with chains that glinted faintly. Same old chains, same old room – nothing in this place ever changed. He could hear the muted sounds of other angels nearby. Funny things these rooms – sound could get in – but none could get out. “This could take a while.”

He tested the give in the chains, only to be rewarded in a sharp burst of pain along the edges of his wings. 

“Sheesh, Raphael, are you that bored you had to string me up like a turkey?” The ones on his wrists weren't nearly as bad – but with the way his wings were bound, if he used anything but his Grace to get himself out of this – he'd break at least one pair. Wings took a long time to heal – but right now, two broken wings seemed like a small price to pay for getting out of here. If he could get out of here. First he'd have to get free, then he'd have to get past the wards that kept him from flying away. Not exactly hard, doing it without detection, not so much. The door on the far end of the room swung open to admit Michael, who was still wearing John Winchester.   
“Ah, good – your awake.”  
“Michael.” Gabriel wasn't going to give his brother the satisfaction.  
“I really shouldn't let Raphael do anymore chain work... you look awful.” Michael came to a stop directly in front of him. “Been having fun with the humans, Gabby?”

Gabriel winced at the nickname. “As a matter of fact, yes. You should try it some time.”

“I think not.” Michael frowned. “It's not my intention to harm you, little brother.”

“You could have fooled me.” He narrowed his eyes. “What have you done?”

“I can't have the Winchesters living the lives they currently are. It's not in the Plan. I just need them to be hunting again, that is all. Once they head off down that road, things will go the way they are meant to – surely you can see that.”

Cold fear started to build in Gabriel's chest. “And I suppose you hauled me up here to keep me from influencing Dean into telling you to fuck off.”

“Partially.” He sighed. “Such crude language, Gabriel. It's not like you – I take you don't speak that way in front of – what's the little Nephilim's name again? Sara?”

“What. Did. You. Do?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“I'm sure the girl's fine, wherever she is.” 

Gabriel lunged forward, swinging with one arm to strike his brother and at the same time, a horrific pain shot down his left wing as it burst free of it's binding, the radial bone snapping in half. _“Where is she?”_

“Oh, look, all you've managed to do is hurt yourself. I've no intention of harming the brat.” Michael looked down at the twisted wing with little interest. “She's someplace safe, that much I can promise you. But really, you should thank me for taking you and her off the table. If Dean Winchester has nothing left to lose, then really, what's the harm? All he has to do is return to hunting and then you and Sara can go off and do whatever the Hell it is that you do down on Earth.” 

“If she's not your concern, then why not leave her here with me?” Gabriel didn't want to think of the places his elder brother could have left his baby girl. 

“What, and have her running around with fledglings here like she's one of them?” Michael made a disgusted sound. “That's out of the question.” He sighed and stepped back. “I'll be back to check on you in a little bit.” 

“No!” Gabriel lunged forward again, the chains that held his arms bound clattering to the floor as he landed where Michael had been standing, now two of his wings throbbing in agony. He rested his head on the cool marble floor, the pain in his wings negligible to the cold fear settling in his heart. “Just bring Sara back – please...”

***

“This is the car house.” Sara looked around the yard, frowning. “Daddy and I were here a few days ago.”

Gabriel looked down at the girl, giving her a smile. “Were you?”

“Uh huh.” They walked through the Singer Salvage Yard. “But a lot of these cars weren't here. Did Mr Uncle Bobby get more cars that fast?”

“I don't know.” He didn't see any sign of the Winchester's trademark black Impala. Well, no matter – paying a visit to Bobby Singer might be just as good. “Do any of the cars look the same as they were when you were here last?”

“Uh...” Sara bit at her bottom lip. “I don't know.” She frowned. “I just know there's more cars here now than last time.” She paused. “Wait...”

“What is it?” 

“There wasn't any snow either!” She looked up at him. “When did it snow?”

Gabriel blinked and reached down to take the girl's hand, rather glad he'd gotten her a coat and mittens for their trip to South Dakota. “There wasn't snow when you were here last?”

“No. It was just all – bare looking. No snow.” She nodded for emphasis. “It must have started snowing right after Daddy and I left for there to be this much snow.”

Gabriel didn't really think the six inches of snow was all that much, particularly not for South Dakota in the early part of December. “Let's get inside – maybe Mr. Bobby will have some answers for us, okay?”

“Okay.” They went up the steps and she reached out to hit the doorbell and a moment later, slapped her hands over her ears as she heard a 'damn it' from inside. “He sounds grumpy.”

“Grumpy?” Gabriel asked as the door swung open to reveal a very disgruntled Bobby Singer, wheelchair bound and wielding a sawed-off shotgun. 

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?” 

“I'm the only archangel who gives a crap.” He pointed to Sara, who was staring at Bobby, wide-eyed. “This is a little lost Winchester who's in the wrong reality. May we come in?” 

The hunter looked from Gabriel to the girl, frowning. “Now why should I trust you?”

“Uh, because you and those Chuckle-heads are rapidly running out of options. “And also, I can actually help you guys get rid of a certain – problem.” He saw the hunter's eyebrow lift. “Not to mention I would like to get Shorty here back where she belongs before the me in her world comes looking for her – I know what I'm like when I'm angry. I don't want to run into myself when I'm angry – and frankly, if he shows up, my brother is going to be the _least_ of your problems, believe me.”

“Just no funny stuff.” Bobby backed up in his wheelchair to let the two of them inside, still eying the girl with some reservation. “Something wrong kid?”

Sara looked from him up to Gabriel. “He's not the same either. Mr Uncle Bobby didn't have owies on his legs a few days ago.”

“But they look almost the same?” Gabriel helped her take off her coat and mittens as they stepped inside. 

“Er... almost.” She pulled at her lip, regarding the hunter. “This one's sad. Mr. Uncle Bobby wasn't sad a few days ago when Daddy and I were here.”

Bobby chuckled. “Well, I don't know when you met that other me – but it must have been longer than a few days ago.”

“No snow last time.” Sara nodded, “Lots of snow since Daddy and I were here.” 

“It's been snowing a while, kid.” Bobby replied as they went into the library. “Since before Thanksgiving.”

“We've not had Turkey Day yet!” Sara interjected. “Turkey Day isn't _that_ close to Ask for Candy Day, I know that!”

“What holiday is after Turkey Day?” Bobby asked.

“Christmas.” She replied, blinking. “Don't you know that?”

“Just checking.” He watched as Gabriel and the girl sat down on the couch. “What's your name kid?”

“Sara.” She frowned. “You got owies in your legs?”

“Yeah.” The hunter almost cracked a smile. “I've got owies in my legs.” He was about to start talking again when he heard the rumble of a motor approaching the house and noticed that Sara suddenly straightened up. “You know that sound?”

“That's Daddy's car.” She turned to Gabriel. “Is he going to be different too?”

“'Fraid so, Shorty.” He ruffled the girl's hair. “Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, okay?”

“Okay.” She frowned. “Can I have Alec back?”

“Alec?” Bobby asked as the archangel pulled a stuffed dog from a pocket in his coat and handed to the girl. 

“This Alec.” She hugged the animal to her. “Paw Paw gave him to me for my birthday.”

“Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever heard?” Gabriel chuckled as they heard the doors of the Impala open and shut. He turned to the girl. “By the way, he doesn't have hurt legs anymore, Sara. He just likes sitting in that chair with wheels on it.”

“What?” Bobby stood up and then paused. “Holy...” He started to say and then looked from the angel to the kid. “Thanks?”

“You're welcome.” Gabriel smirked as they heard the front door open. 

“Bobby?” Sam's voice called out. “You home?”

“Library. Wipe your feet, you two.” He took a few steps over to the desk and sat down, leaving the chair abandoned by the bookshelves.

“Don't suppose Cas has been by...” Dean said as they walked into the room and stopped short. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Change of plans.” Gabriel smirked. “And watch the potty mouth around the kid.”

Sam looked at the four other occupants of the room and his eyes widened. “Uh, Dean...”

“What?” 

“I think he's here because...” He gave the archangel a confused look. “Why are you here?”

“First, to get Shorty here back home. Second, crash my big brother's party and save humanity.” He gave a sideways glance to Sara. “They look different too, huh?”

“Sad,” Sara hugged Alec to her. “They look really, really sad.”

“Uh, someone want to explain what's going on?” Dean interjected. 

Gabriel stood up and crossed the room. “Do we have to go through this _again?”_

Sam took the vacated spot on the couch and looked at the girl, who looked to be about on the verge of tears. “They don't fight like this where you come from, do they?”

She shook her head and sniffled. “Un uh.”

**

To her credit, Jessica took the whole monsters and demons being real rather well. Sam was actually surprised she wasn't too horrified by it all – and she also stated she understood why he never mentioned it before. He knew that trying to get Dean to get some sleep would be next to impossible, but his brother did manage to go back to the motel room, gather up his family's things and come back to the apartment. He poured water into the coffee maker for the second pot and then leaned against the counter, folding his arms. He couldn't be angry with Dean over this, it wasn't like his brother had known this would happen. Jess kept her focus on her hands, not looking at either of them. “I take it angels don't negotiate.”

“No.” Dean replied, picking at a blister on his hand. “They don't. I'm sorry you two got dragged into this.” He raised his head to look at his brother. “I had no intention on wrecking what you've got going here, Sam. I don't know if there's another way around this, or not.”

“I know, Dean, I know.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “So angels can just possess people, like demons can?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Angels need permission. I'm guessing Michael got into Dad by promising to kill Azazel if he said yes. Knowing how long Dad's been looking and the fact that we've been running around in circles to find it, I'm fairly certain Dad would say yes without much hesitation.”

“And the other guy – the one who took Sara. He probably said yes too?” Jessica said, not looking up from her coffee mug.

“Yeah.” Dean frowned. “Don't know who he was, or what angel has him – and the poor bastard's probably going to remain possessed until this is over.”

Sam decided not to ask about who Gabriel was possessing and went over to one of the empty chairs and sat down. “I guess there's really only one opinion – somehow, I don't think Michael was bullshitting about that earthquake.”

“I think he expects us to agree. The extra time he's given us is meant to just drive us nuts.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Most of the weapons aren't even in the trunk, they're locked up in the basement back at the house.”

“Even the two of us driving back to back we can't get to Virginia in the time we have left.”

“Excuse me, but there's _three_ of us.” Jessica interjected.

“Jess...” Sam let out a breath. “You don't have to get involved in this...”

“The Hell I don't, Samuel Winchester!” She stood up. “Some angel swoops in here, kidnaps my almost-niece and then his boss shows up and starts threatening us? No way am I just going to stay behind and hope you come back in one piece!”

“Jess...” Sam stood up and moved towards her side of the table.

“No, Sam. I'm not backing down from this. I'm going.” 

Dean stood up, the chair scraping on the floor. “It takes two days driving non-stop to where we need to go. We might be able to get as far as Kentucky if we leave in the next thirty minutes, but other than that, forget it.”

“So we'll start out.” Jess gave Sam a look of death. “I mean, we could get to some place in Kansas. That should be pretty close to halfway, right?”

The brothers exchanged glances and before Sam could protest, Dean spoke again. “The two of you can continue this discussion in the car. I'm fairly certain that when we agree to this, Michael will let us get our arsenal before we start hunting.” He looked from one to the other. He was trying not to show how much his emotions were killing him. The absolute fear of where Sara and Gabriel were right now terrified him. He just hoped the two of them were together. “For now, let's just get ready to leave.” He ran a hand through his hair and headed for the bathroom.

Sam swallowed hard and sank back into his chair. “I never wanted you knowing any of this, Jess. I just...” 

She set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “It's fine, Sam. Look, I know you're probably thinking I'm rushing into this. But I love you – and I am not going to let you and your brother go through this alone. If these guys have no qualms about picking up a three year old, I'm willing to bet they'd use me as a pawn too, if I didn't go.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, I'll be the optimist here and say that Gabriel's going to get out of wherever he is. We know Dean's pretty pissed – I'd hate to see what that archangel is like when he's pissed.”

Sam managed a very weak grin. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.” She planted a swift kiss on his head before heading to their room to pack.

**

Michael watched over the burning body that Azazel had been possessing – both it and the demon were slowly disintegrating into ash. He sat on a railing in the same barn where he'd caught Gabriel, rather nonchalant about the past day's events. John Winchester, of course, was completely unaware of what was going on. He'd put the hunter back as soon as things were back on course. He heard a rustle behind him and he smiled. “Any trouble, Castiel?”

“No, Michael.” The lesser angel came up behind him and looked down at the burning body. “Was Azazel able to contact his successor?”

“Yes – or a least, I assume so. If not, there's more than one way to start an Apocalypse.”

“I do not know how you intend to get the Righteous Man into Hell, Michael. If I may be as so bold to ask.”

“Oh, that's not going to be difficult at all. We've already taken two of the most precious people in the world from Dean Winchester. We will just have to arrange for the loss of the third. That's where the demons come in.” Michael frowned. “You did leave that little Nephilim near another Gabriel, didn't you?”

“Of course.” Castiel frowned. “I think I was also nearby – though it did not entirely feel like myself.”

“That is understandable. Go put your vessel back where he belongs – then return to Heaven and keep an eye on Gabriel for me. My brother may be suffering from two broken wings, but he can still be quite dangerous.”

“Yes, Michael.” He replied and flew away.

**

Sara hated watching the grown-ups fight. Everyone here seemed so angry all the time – and it was awful. If people got angry at home, they tended not to do it around her. Or maybe it was just that this place was so very, very different from where she lived. She slipped out of the book room and sat down under the kitchen table with Alec, setting the dog down so the two of them could talk. “This just like the Alice movie.” She tucked her knees up under her chin and regarded the stuffed animal. “I agree. It's much nicer at home. “ She rubbed her nose, “and I don't have to like it here.” She closed her eyes and frowned when she heard a rustling noise – she knew that sound – it was similar to the one Papa made when he flew somewhere. “Now there's _another_ grumpy person.” She heard a chair scrape back and she opened her eyes.

“Hello.”

Sara felt her eyes grow wide and she fumbled backwards, crashing into another one of the chairs, trying to get away from the angel looking at her. “No!”

“Is something the matter?” Castiel frowned. 

She leaned forward, grabbed her stuffed dog and backed further away. “Stay away from me!”

“Cas?” Dean's voice called into the kitchen.

“There is a child underneath the table who appears to be frightened of me.” Castiel straightened up and at the same time there was a loud bang as the back of Sara's head made contact with one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Dean came into the room just as Sara started wailing. “Okay, that's not good.” He was about to start around the table towards her when Gabriel beat him to it.

Sara took hold of the front of Gabriel's shirt, sobbing against him. This place was _awful._ Papa and Daddy didn't like each other here, everyone looked weird, everyone was grumpy, the scary angel was back and now, to top it all off, her head hurt. 

Gabriel stood up, noticing that the girl wasn't going to let him go. “Hey, hey it's okay...” He adjusted her so he could put his hand against the side of her head and heal the injury, but even after he did, she was still crying. 

“I think she's half scared, half frustrated.” 

Both angels stared at Dean in surprise. 

“How do you know that, Dean?” Castiel frowned. “She is merely crying.”

“Given the day she's probably been having, I'm surprised it's taken her this long to start wailing.” Dean felt his cheeks turn pink. “What?” 

Gabriel blinked and looked back down at Sara as she went to whimpering and said something more to his chest than to him. “What was that, Sara-Bug?”

“Bad angel.” She sniffled and cut a sideways look at Castiel. “Bad.”

“Cas isn't a bad angel.” He adjusted his hold on her. “Why would you say that?”

“Bad angel brought me here.” Her tear stained face contorted and she glared at Castiel. “Mean.”

Dean looked from Cas to the girl just as Sam came into the room. “The angel that brought you here looked like Cas?”

She nodded. “Same angel.” She sniffled, still not calmed down. “Mean angel.” 

Sam frowned and turned to his friend. “Cas, uh – why don't you and I go in the other room and talk to Bobby? We'll get you caught up on what's been going on.”

“Very well.” He turned and followed Sam out of the room.

Dean meanwhile had grabbed a box of tissues off the counter and gave one to Sara to wipe her face with. She had at least let Gabriel go at this point, leaving him and the archangel crouching on the floor to talk to her. “Here.” 

“Thank you.” She took a tissue and rubbed at her face. “Scary angel.”

“He's not in the room any more, Sara-Bug and he's not going to take you anywhere, okay?” Gabriel took a tissue as well and started to clean her face. “And here I thought I was having a rough day.”

Dean snorted. “You brought that on yourself.” 

The archangel rolled his eyes in response. “We'll discuss that later.” He turned back to Sara. “You said it wasn't Thanksgiving yet where you came from, right?”

“Uh huh.” She blew her nose weakly, rubbing her nose. “Daddy calls it Pie Day.”

Dean repressed a chuckle. “That is a better name for it.” 

“And it was just Halloween, right?” Gabriel took the soiled tissue and gave her a new one. 

She nodded. “Daddy took me out to get candy but I left my bucket at Uncle Sammy's and I'm supposed to remember to get it before we go back to the hotel.” She gulped. “I know it's still there cause I saw it up on top of the fridge.”

“So you were at Uncle Sammy's house?” Dean wasn't sure if he should smile or cry at that.   
She nodded again, rubbing her nose. “We had pizza and cookies for dinner. And then Papa went to go get the scary man and I went to sleep and then the bad angel grabbed me and left me here.”

Gabriel exchanged glances with Dean. “Scary man?”

“Scary man in the park.” She hugged her dog to her. “Scary man with a twisted face and black eyes.”

Dean frowned. “Not yellow, they were black?”

“Very black.” She gulped and rubbed her nose. “Papa said he'd take care of him. Uncle Sammy knew scary man.”

“What do you mean, knew him?” Gabriel asked. “The monster or the man the monster was in?”

“The man. Uncle Sammy was in... I think Daddy called it shock.” She rubbed her eyes. “I wanna go home.”

“I bet you do.” Dean rubbed his temple, a bad feeling building in the pit of his stomach. “Do you remember Uncle Sammy's friend's name?”

Sara shook her head. “No.” She hugged Alec against her. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.” Gabriel replied. “Don't worry, we're going to get you back home as soon as we can.” 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I ask you another question Sara?”

“Okay.” She pulled at her bottom lip, her focus more on the floor than either of the two men. 

“Do you live in a house or do you move around a lot?” The moment he spoke the girl gave a stunned look.

“Papa, Daddy and I live in a house. Back in the summer, when Daddy was in the hospital with sick legs, Paw Paw stayed with us. He uses a lot of words I'm not supposed to hear.”

“Hey – she doing any better?” Sam called from the doorway and then noticed the look on his brother's face. “What's going on?”

Dean stood up. “Sara, one more thing – when you and your dad went to Uncle Sammy's house – did they leave and go anywhere? Like saying they were going to go look for their dad? Paw Paw?”

“No. Daddy and I went back to the hotel and Papa came later that night. We went back over to Uncle Sammy's the next day.”

“I'm – going to step outside.” Sam went outside and nearly slammed the door behind him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Sara swallowed. 

“No...” Dean looked from her to the door. “I'll talk to him.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel watched him go before turning back to Sara. “Now we're going to go in the other room – the Cas in there might look like the angel who brought you here, but he's not the same.”

“They sure look the same.” 

“Well, remember how you thought I looked like your Papa, but I'm not?”

“Uh huh.”

“Same thing. The Cas in this world is a lot nicer than the other one. Promise.” He took her hand they went into the library.

**

Gabriel rose to a crouch as he removed his bonds. His pain in his wings had become a dull ache and he flexed his back as he folded the two undamaged pairs away and pulled the less damaged feathered one towards him. “Soon I get these back in place, the sooner I can get out of here.” He took a deep breath and snapped the bone back into place. “Ah... shit.” He coughed and gritted his teeth, suddenly jerking up when he heard the door open and another angel slipped inside. “Jeremiah.”

“Gabriel!” The lesser angel crossed the room quickly and helped him sit. “What on Earth is going on? Michael's taken a vessel and is after the Winchester Brothers to get them hunting again.” 

“I know.” He took another deep breath. “I have to get out of here.”

“Raphael has already begun to muster the ranks – I heard you were back, but I did not dare believe it.” He looked at his superior's wing. “You cannot fly with two broken wings, Gabriel.”

“I know I can't. I need you to take care of our Legion, Jeremiah. With Michael acting the way he is, he could try and tear us apart and integrate us into the others.”

“We are scribes, messengers and cherubs, Gabriel. We can fight, but are not the warriors that...” Jeremiah looked at him, confused, picking up a thought from the other angel's mind. “What's cannon fodder?”

“What we shall be if Michael's plan succeeds. Warriors we all are at the core, Jeremiah – but the casualties from our Legion shall be much higher than the others should this come out as Michael dictates.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“If this is his idea of attempting to get Father's attention, surely there is a better way.” He started to rise to his feet when Gabriel grabbed his arm. “Yes?”

“What did you say?'

“About Michael wanting attention?” 

“Yes.” Gabriel swallowed hard and then looked up at him. “The method of how we arrive at the End of All Things is always in motion – and now, now is not the time for the End.”

“Michael says it is.”

“And when did Michael become an expert on Father's Will?” Gabriel coughed. “You must go and I must rest if I have any hope of getting out of here with a chance of ease.” He leaned on his arms, his head suddenly throbbing – something it hadn't done in centuries. “Tell Joshua that Father wants him to finally use his voice.” He lifted his eyes, no longer a standard hazel, but blazing white in pure righteousness. “Now, Jeremiah – go.” 

“At once.” The angel took several steps back and the moment he was out of the wards, he flew away. 

Gabriel felt the room spin and once more slumped over, succumbing to the pain in his wings and head. 

*

Sam offered to drive first – he knew the roads around Palo Alto better than Dean did. The worst part would be driving through the mountains. The snow had already started and Sam knew the Impala might be a good heavy car – driving through wintry weather was still not something he enjoyed. Dean was asleep in the backseat, snoring lightly. Though Sam doubted that his brother would object to the news and weather station he had the radio tuned to at the moment. He glanced at the “Welcome to Nevada” sign and shook his head. “This is one the last things I wanted to drag you into Jess, believe me.”

“Will you quit apologizing?” Jess rubbed her temple. “I think I'm actually safer with the two of you than I would be alone.”

Sam sighed. “I'm sorry, I think it's just – it's just everything. I think I'm pissed at myself for not recognizing there was something up with Brady sooner. It does no good to live a safe life and not take precautions if you know what's out in the dark. It was like not locking the doors.”

“You really have to stop beating yourself up over this. What's done is done.” She leaned against the glass, staring out the window. 

“I just never wanted you knowing about this.” Sam took a deep breath. “I – well, I don't know if I was embarrassed, or ashamed, or what.”

“Sam, I'm sorry, but the fact that you've fought monsters – real honest to god monsters – elevates you to badass status. I know it's not something you can talk about in polite company, but still...”

“It's not that great. Growing up on the road was awful.”

“I'm a Navy Brat, Sam. I know moving around is a pain in the ass. I went to three high schools.”

“I went to eight, I've got you beat there.” He gave her a sideways grin as she slapped his arm. “And the stuff I've done? The stuff I've helped my brother and dad do? It's not some superhero gig, Jess.”

“I realize that Sam and I know this isn't a game or something. But right now, all the crazy shit that's happening? I'm just trying to cope.” She rubbed her forehead. “This is insane, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” Sam sighed. 

Jessica was quiet for a moment, then let out a breath. “Did you have one of those weird dreams again?”  
Sam nodded slowly. “I thought it was just a dream – mainly with Dean having a kid and all.”

“Have you told him yet? About the dreams?”

“No. I don't know if I want to either.” Sam had dismissed the dream he'd had a few nights ago about Dean coming to see him in California, a kid in tow. Except in his dream, he and Dean had left the girl with Jess and gone out somewhere – and came back to find Jess burning on the ceiling and the kid gone. “I think exhaustion got to Dean.”

“Can you blame him?” Jess leaned back in her seat, her attention shifting to the passing scenery. 

Sam gave her a sideways smile and then moved his hand to lower the volume on the radio even further. He could just make out the speaker's voice as they drove.

_“James Novak, the Illinois man who went missing last week was found, rather shaken, fifty miles away from his home in Pontiac. He claims he does not remember clearly where or what he did in the past six days.”_

“Well, that sounds weird.” Sam shook his head – not even a day back into the life and he was already thinking like a hunter. 

Damn habits.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara knew better than to ask why everyone was so grumpy here. Adults did weird things and acted weird too – so it must be something that happened before she got here that was making them act the way they were. Gabriel – the man who looked just like Papa and had the same name – kept asking her lots of questions, most of which she couldn't answer. Well, she could – but not to the degree he seemed to need. The Sam here had come back into the room and the mean angel had gone to talk to the guy who looked like Daddy, leaving her with the other two, and Mr. Bobby. She rubbed her nose,watching Mr. Bobby type on his computer.

“So you're saying you don't know the name of the town you live in?” Sam leaned against the desk.

“No.” She bit her lip. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Gabriel frowned. “Is there anything out of the ordinary in your town?”

“What's out of the ordinary mean?” She blew her nose.

“He means does your town have something other places don't.” Bobby offered.

“Like that city with the big arch?” She bit her lip, thinking. “Saint... Saint something....”

“St. Louis.” Gabriel finished for her. “Yeah – different like that.”

She tucked her knees under her chin, her face scrunched up in concentration. “There's a hill with a big stone on top of it – and a river, but it's not as big as the one in St. Louis.”

“That's good.” Sam glanced at Bobby who shrugged. “How long did it take you to get to your Uncle Sammy's house from where you live, Sara?”

“Four days... I remember that, cause I only went to bed three times.” She nodded solemnly. “And in my town there's a really, really big field where a bunch of men in funny outfits camped this summer.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “If you heard the name of the town, would you know it?”

She shrugged in response. “I dunno.”

Sam glanced at Gabriel before talking to Sara. “Do you live in Gettysburg?”

She shook her head. “No, that's not it.”

“Chancellorsville?” Bobby offered.

“Uh uh.” She rubbed her nose. “I... I think it does end in burg – that, that sounds right.”

“Vicksburg?” Gabriel said and then paused. “Wait, that's not a four day drive to Palo Alto...”

“If they came up here it is.” Sam frowned. “Is it Fredricksburg?”

Sara lifted her chin and blinked, thinking for a moment and then nodded. “Uh huh, that's it!”

“How exactly is knowing where Sara here lives going to help us get her back where she belongs?” Bobby interjected. 

“Because I'm thinking that the reality she lives in isn't that far removed from this one.” Gabriel leaned against desk, his arms folded. “We already know that the break had to have happened around June 2001 – and figuring out where Miss Sara lives is a part of finding when exactly in June it was.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “It's hard to believe that one little thing could make something so – so different happen.”

“No argument there.” Bobby stood up and walked into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. 

“Whatever it was, it had to be right after you left for college.” Gabriel crossed the room and sat down next to Sara. “You're looking tired, Sara-Bug.”

“I think it's almost...” She covered a yawn. “Nap time. But we haven't had lunch yet...”

“Yeah.” He ruffled her hair. “Forgot how much little kids sleep. We'll have something to eat here in a little bit.” He turned to Sam. “Dean ever tell you what happened after you left for college?”

Sam leaned against a table as Bobby came back into the room. “He said Dad took off shortly after I did – and that he laid around in that abandoned house for around four days before leaving. He spent the summer hunting and finally met up with Dad at Pastor Jim's Labor Day weekend.”

“Do you remember what day you left for California?”

“June third.” Sam said. “Dean and Cas still outside?”

“Yeah. I think your brother is still a little shaken.” Bobby said as he set his mug down and then walked slowly to the stairs and back.

“Can you blame him?” Sam shook his head. “ _I'm_ still shaken.” He didn't say anything to the old hunter about pacing. The man had been wheelchair bound for several months – if he wanted to walk all the way in to town and back, Sam wouldn't say a thing. 

Bobby came over to the couch. “Come on kid, how about you and me get some lunch?”

“Okay.” Sara stood up and followed the man into the kitchen. If this Mr. Bobby cooked as well as her Uncle Bobby – lunch should be pretty good. Even if it was just peanut-butter and jelly.

**

Dean kept his focus on the road, the traffic that seemed to be nothing but tractor trailers and the light snow that was falling. They were now in the thirty-sixth hour of their given forty-eight, and he really wished that Michael would get the memo that he and Sam were back on the hunting track and bring Gabriel and Sara back from wherever he'd stashed them. The bastard owed him a good-bye to the pair. Though he didn't know how the hell he was supposed to let go of his little girl. He knew that Gabriel would keep her safe, raise her well – fend of anything that dared hurt her and - 

Dean cursed as he realized how fast he was going and slowed the Impala down before they passed a state trooper. Getting a speeding ticket wasn't going to help matters at all. He saw the 'Now Leaving Utah' sign out the front window as Jessica coughed from the backseat. Sam was asleep in the front. A moment later, the 'Welcome to Colorado' sign flashed past. He let out a sigh and after glancing in the rear-view mirror at the empty booster seat he hadn't removed, his thoughts went right back to Sara. If he eve got his hands on the angel that took her – he'd find someway to hurt the guy. He knew it was next to impossible to kill an angel – Gabriel had told him as much. Then again, Gabriel had probably already found said angel and had kicked his ass from here to the next century.

There were twelve more hours to go before Michael returned – and they'd be in the middle of Kansas, if the weather held – still in Colorado if it didn't. He wondered if all the roads led back to Kansas, the place where all this started, twenty-two years ago. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, not at all. He, Sara and Gabe were supposed to be sleeping in Palo Alto, getting ready to leave tomorrow morning for home. Instead he was heading back to Virginia with his brother and his brother's girlfriend. He guessed Gabriel was imprisoned in Heaven and who knew where Sara was.

Sam suddenly jerked awake, cursing when his foot hit the floorboard of the Impala.

“You okay, little brother?” Dean shot a look over at him. 

“That was...” He took a few deep breaths and looked out the windows. “Where are we?”

“Colorado.” Dean replied. “Bad dream?”

“Weird dream.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “I mean, seriously weird.”

“Weird for us or regular weird with pink elephants?” Dean was welcome to any distraction from thinking about Sara, even if it was his little brother dreaming of marching elephants or something equally stupid.

“I don't know...” He took a few deep breaths and then picked up the bottle of water from near his feet and took a few swallows. “I – this was...”

“Talk to me, Sam.” Dean tried to keep his voice even. “What's wrong?”

“I – I've been having dreams lately... and sometimes they come true.” Sam felt like a total ass for saying it – he'd had a dream about a man in a trench-coat standing in the apartment – and he'd woken up before he saw what he was going to do. 

“Do they always come true?” Dean didn't like the sound of this conversation. Gabe had told him that it was possible for his brother to develop psychic abilities due to the incident that killed their mom, but to actually hear it had happened? Freaky.

“No.” Sam looked over his shoulder at the sleeping Jessica. “I had a dream that Jess was going to die... like mom did... and then... then the dream just stopped coming. Usually they happen over and over until they do happen. Two nights ago, I didn't dream that... I dreamed something else.”

Dean took a deep breath. He had a feeling he knew what Sam had been dreamed instead. “What about just now?”

“I was standing in this room – a house with a bunch of books in it.” Sam took another swallow of water. “And it wasn't like I was a part of the room – it was like I was watching what was happening.”

“Okay....” Dean wasn't sure what had freaked his brother out.

“Well, Sara was asleep on the couch in the room and Uncle Bobby was there...”

“Bobby Singer?” He interjected.

“Yeah. He was writing something on a sheet of paper... and when I went to the door that led into the kitchen, there we were... you and me... but we didn't look right.”

“Look right how?”

“Just... just wrong.” It was becoming clearer now that he was going over the details in his mind. “Maybe we were older, but not by much.” He took another gulp of water. “They were writing something down too – and at one point, me, or I guess, Sam, raised his head, turned to you and said, should we include the hunt at Springfield State?”

“They were writing down hunts?” Dean asked. “What the hell...”

“I know, I told you it was weird.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then I went back into the other room – and Sara was awake... this is going to sound bad, but – does she like to do puzzles?”

Dean chuckled faintly. “Sara _loves_ puzzles – was she doing one?”

“Yeah... but uh...”

“But what?”

“Well, she couldn't do a thousand piece one, could she?”

Dean repressed a snort. “No, thirty-six is about as big as she can do.”

“Well, for some reason, there she was, doing a thousand piece puzzle on a coffee table.” Sam sighed. “Sorry.” He could see his brother's pained expression.

“It's okay.” He pulled the Impala into the passing lane so they could drive past a Fed-Ex truck. “How did you know it was a thousand pieces?”

“I saw the box.” Sam said and paused. “I didn't see the picture though... it was just a dark image.”

Dean shook his head. “Maybe this one was just a dream.”

“Maybe.” Sam took another sip of water. “I – I'll try not to bring that up again.”

“What, the dream thing?” 

“No, Sara.” Sam couldn't imagine how his brother felt. 

“It's okay.” Dean knew that his voice sounded pained. “I – I know she's safe.”

Sam twisted the cap back onto the bottle tightly and set it down. “You think?”

“I know.” He gave his brother a rather weak smile. “I'm thinking she and Gabe are in the same place right now. As long as she's with him, she's safe.”

“She's a smart kid.” 

“Yeah.” Dean's smile strengthened. “That's what her teachers tell me all the time.”

“She goes to school?” Sam was surprised.

“Preschool, yeah. Five days a week – just in the morning.” He chuckled. “I know for a fact she's the only kid in her class that's potty trained. Gabe and I have told her to keep a lot of it to herself. It might scare her teachers a little if she showed off too much.”

“Is that the half-angel thing?” 

“Uh huh. She'll get words mixed up like any kid – but she's a pretty good conversationalist.” He took a deep breath. “She's a great kid.”

“Yeah.” Sam glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye and saw the pained expression was back. “You want to talk about something else?”

“No, this is good.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Sara can read a little – few words she sees everyday and such.”

“Wow.” Sam checked Jess in the backseat before turning back to Dean. “You think Dad's okay?”

“I don't know.” Was his honest reply. “I hope so.” He checked his watch. “It's nearly midnight. There's a truck stop about fifteen minutes up the road from here with an all night diner. You want to get something to eat?”

Sam recognized his brother's famous 'change the subject' tactic at once. Rather than argue, he nodded. “I could eat.” He glanced back at Jess again. “I'd like to let her sleep a few more minutes, if that's okay.”

“That's fine Sammy.” Dean gave his brother the best smile he could muster. At midnight – they'd have eleven hours until they saw Michael again.

**

Despite the broken wings, Gabriel laid on the floor of his prison, the marble was cool and comforting. He just needed a rest and then he could get away from here. Now that he was unchained, getting past the wards were nothing. He would have little trouble overpowering a guard – as long as there was just one of them and it wasn't Raphael. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reached out with his Grace. He just needed to check on his family. 

Dean he found quickly – he was in the Impala, heading east. He was at a truck-stop somewhere in Colorado. It was late at night and Gabriel knew that the man was eating only out of habit. Dean would never eat scrambled eggs on purpose. Dean liked his eggs sunny side up or in an omelet. Sam was most likely making him eat. Gabriel was glad that someone was taking care of him. But what were they doing in Colorado? Why had they left Palo Alto? What had Michael said to the Winchesters that would make them leave the apartment and head – wherever they were going.

Gabriel took a deep breath and reached out again. He knew that Sara had to be somewhere. He frowned when he felt the disturbance in Sam's apartment, despite the passage of time. The angel who had taken Sara hadn't just taken her to some place on Earth, the angel had taken her to another reality. It wasn't far, just another step over, but in his condition? It wasn't going to be easy. 

The sound of the door opening caused him to sit back up. “It's you.”

Castiel merely blinked at him. “Gabriel.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“Orders.” Castiel stood placidly just outside the wards, watching him. 

Gabriel snorted, “Well, I've always said that of all the angels in Michael's Legion, you could give the rest of us lessons in being heartless douchebags.” He smoothed his hair down, studying the lesser angel. “Castiel, right?”

“Yes.” The angel stood, ramrod stiff just outside the wards, his gaze more focused on the wall behind Gabriel, rather than the archangel himself. “You won't have to stay here much longer.”

“Oh, you're letting me go then?”

“We will be releasing you in several hours. I do not know exactly when.”

Gabriel smirked. “I will be kicking your ass into the middle of the next century, you know that don't you?”

“I have followed my orders. You have defied them.” Castiel's voice sounded cold. 

“Bullshit.” Gabriel rose to his feet. “You have no idea what I have done.”

“And what is that?”

“Followed Father's orders – loving humanity.”

“Dean Winchester is one man among many. You can...”

“Silence!” Gabriel put much authority into his voice as he could. “Michael wants the fighting to end. If he takes on Lucifer, millions – no, billions of humans will die.”

“Mankind is not -”

“You know nothing of mankind, Castiel. You have not been on earth in two thousand years.”

“Why must you rebel?” The lesser angel's voice was so cold, it actually scared Gabriel.

“Father said to love humanity, not crush it.” 

“You misunderstand me, Gabriel. I want to help mankind.”

“You have a funny way of showing it!” Gabriel knew that talking reason to an angel who knew nothing of mankind could never hope to understand what Gabriel did of man. Flawed, yes – mankind was flawed. But they were so full of potential, it was unfathomable. He was about to issue a retort to at least get Castiel to leave him alone – he knew that the lesser angel was only there to keep him inside the wards – when a squeaking sound drew his attention. He wasn't the only one. As they both watched, a blue plastic Volkswagen Bug with white daisies on it – Gabriel recognized the toy as one Sara had – scurried across the floor and made contact with Castiel's foot. 

Castiel leaned down and picked the toy up, turning it over in his hands. “How curious.”

There was a second sound – a meaty thunk as something hit the angel on the back of head and he fell to the floor, unconscious. 

“I told you he'd fall for it!” 

Gabriel blinked in surprise. A second him, another Gabriel, not merely a copy, was standing across the room. It was him – but not him – and as for his companion...

“Papa!” Sara shouted and closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you Papa!”

Gabriel wrapped his arms around his daughter, pressing his face into her hair. “I missed you too, Bug.”

The other Gabriel came over to the pair and helped him stand up. “Lovely and touching as this family reunion is, I think we best get out of here before Castiel wakes up.”

Gabriel nodded, not wanting to put his daughter down. Just having her back – and with him – made the pain in his wings seem to vanish. “Agreed.” 

“You know where we're going?”

“Virginia.” He found it odd to be talking to himself – an actual other Gabriel – something that had never happened in his very, very long existence. “You had a plan for getting in here, I hope you had one for getting out.”

Other-Gabriel gave him a look. “Now there's a stupid question.”

“Where's Daddy?” Sara interjected, hugging her papa tighter, looking from one to the other. “I wanna see Daddy.”

“We're going to see him soon.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “He's on his way. “Let's go home.”

**

When Dean's cellphone went off, he frowned. It was just after midnight here in Colorado, after two in Virginia. This couldn't be good news. He exchanged a glance with Sam and Jess and then flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

“Daddy?” A sweet, tired voice said. “Daddy, is that you?”

Dean nearly dropped the phone. “Sara?”

“Papa and I are home! Are you coming home?”

“Sara?” He knew his hands were shaking as he looked over at Sam and Jess, both of whom looked as stunned as he was. “What – how -” a moment later, a different voice answered him.

“Dean?”

“Gabe?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't easy. In the past thirty seconds, he'd just heard the two voices he wanted to hear more than anything. All he could do was pray this wasn't some kind of dream. He couldn't stand it if this was a dream. “What's going on?”

“There isn't enough time to explain. I'm just going to tell you that Sara's safe. Now all three of you are together, right?”

“Yeah, what does that have to do with...”

Gabriel cut him off. “Someone is going to come by and pick up Jessica. Don't worry, he's a friend. Once she's safe here with Sara, the four of us are going to be having a little chat with my brother.”

“Uh, Dean...” Sam's voice drew him from the conversation. “There's uh...” 

A moment later, a second Gabriel – wearing a khaki colored jacket was standing next to their table. “Oh now here's a happy party.”

“Gabe?”

“I'll explain everything in a few minutes. Don't worry. This will all be over soon.” He hung up.

Dean closed his phone and looked up at the Gabriel next to his table and said the first thing that came to mind. “That's funny, I thought our waitress had blond hair.”

Gabriel blinked and smiled. “Aw, if only you were that sweet where I come from.” He sat down next to Dean, glancing at each of them in turn. “I know we're on a tight schedule here, but...” He paused and looked at each of the brothers, his rather jovial look slowly fading. “Now I get it. Now I get what Sara meant.” He sighed. “Have you guys finished eating? We're going to have to get moving here in a few minutes.”

“I'm good.” Dean pushed his half-eaten eggs away. “Sammy?”

Sam glanced at his own plate, the only thing left was a slice of toast. “Yeah. I'm done.”

Jessica looked down at her own plate, which was empty – she'd been hungrier than she thought. “Me too.”

“Let's go.” Gabriel dropped a twenty and a ten on the table and slid out of the booth, the two Winchesters and Jess right behind him. They exited the restaurant and headed for the Impala. 

“I don't suppose you could tell us what you're doing here.” Dean broke the silence. “You look like Gabriel but - “

“I _am_ Gabriel.” He turned and faced the three of them. “I'm just not the Gabriel that belongs here. When the Castiel in this world kidnapped Sara, I'm the one he dumped her next to. I'm guessing those were Michael's orders. I'm from the reality that was running parallel to this one. It still is, there's just one thing that was different – it's complicated.”

“So she knew who you were and all that?” Sam quickly put in.

“Yeah. Now if it was Mike's intent to also take Sara five years into the future as well, I have no idea. I just know that he's apparently a much of a dick in this world as he is in mine.” He snorted. “Of course, he's a lot closer to his goal where I come from as well and as soon as I'm done here, I've got plans on canceling his party, but that's nothing you need to be worried about.”

“What are we going to be doing anyway?”

“First, I'll be taking Miss Moore here to Virginia – since the house is currently a no-fly without an invite zone.” He held up his hand before Sam could say anything. “This isn't about her, it's about you and your brother.”

“Sam, it's fine.” Jess swallowed hard. “I – it's going to be okay, isn't it?”

“Don't worry.” Gabriel glanced at Dean, who was looking rather pale. “You're not going to pass out on me, are you?”

“No. Lot of stuff, short amount of time...”

“I gotcha.” He looked around the parking lot and came over to Jess. “I'll be right back.”

“Wait!” Sam said, a second too late and found himself facing an empty space. “What the hell was that?”

The movement seemed to shake Dean back into awareness. “They just flew to Virginia, Sam. That's all.”

“How can you be so calm about...” A fluttering noise cut him off and they found two Gabriels standing where only one had been a moment ago. “Dean – this is seriously fucked up.”

The Gabriel in the blue jacket came over and embraced Dean, his lips lingering on the man's for a moment before speaking. “She's okay.” He turned to Sam. “They both are.”

“Let's go.” Other-Gabriel said. “Mike's bound to notice something's up pretty quick.” 

All four of them got into the Impala. 

“Where to?” Dean asked.

“Highway – go east to the next exit, get off, turn left and drive for eight miles.” Other-Gabriel said. “More instructions when we get there.”

“Got it.” Dean replied and turned the engine over. As much as he hated just going along with all these orders and that every part of him wanted an explanation, he knew that time wasn't exactly a luxury they had at right now. If there was a way to end all this – then it was best to just follow orders. But as Sara would say – he didn't have to like it.

**

Jess pulled the blanket more around her shoulders as she and Sara sat on the floor of the basement, the little girl leaning against her. “Are you sleepy?”

“Not sleepy.” Sara rubbed her eyes. “I want Daddy and Papa.”

She gave the girl a hug. “I know. I wouldn't mind seeing my daddy right now either.” She took deep breath. They were told to stay in the basement by Gabriel – the one whom she recognized as the one who'd visited the apartment in California. Although she had a feeling that was more for the sake of feeling safe rather than actual necessity. “Sam would be nice too.”

Sara got up from her seat on the floor and went over to a basket of blocks, pulling it closer to where Jess was sitting on the floor. She grunted under the weight a little, going back to pick up the blocks that had fallen out from the basket when she moved it. “I don't wanna sleep.”

“You don't have to.” She watched as the girl got out several arched wooden blocks and started to make a building. “May I play blocks too?” Jess didn't know why she said it, other than the fact she needed something to distract herself.

“Uh huh.” Sara held out a block. “We can build a city.”

“Do we have enough for that?” Jess took the block and got a second one from the basket.

“Not a big-big city.” She frowned, putting a triangular block on an arched one. “But a big city.”

“Well, that sounds like fun.” She set her blanket down and picked up another block. “I'm not really sleepy myself.” 

Sara nodded and put some tall pillar blocks on top of her arched ones. “I took two naps while I was gone.”

“I'm glad you're back.” Jess smiled. “Was it scary where you went?”

“Not scary...” She pulled at her bottom lip – a gesture Jess recognized as the same one that Sam did whenever he was thinking hard. “Everyone there was sad.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She took a deep breath and went back to work. 

“You have a sparkly ring!” Sara interjected brightly, all hint of sleepiness gone from her voice. “Where did you get it?”

Jess looked up, rather surprised and then told herself she shouldn't be. Sara was a girl – of course she was going to notice something like a ring – particularly one that sparkled. Dean hadn't noticed it – then again, Dean had had a lot more on his mind than what she was wearing. “Your uncle Sammy gave me this ring.” She held her hand out so the girl could get a better look at it. 

“It's pretty.” She stood up and held onto her hand as she studied it. “Was it for your birthday?”

“No.” Jess pulled the girl into a sit, smiling at the ring. “Your uncle Sammy asked if I would marry him. I said yes.”

Sara looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. “So you'll awful.. office...er... really be my aunt Jess?”

She laughed at the girl's remark and hugged her. “You bet.” She grinned. “In fact, he and I are going to need a flower girl for the wedding.” 

“I've never been to a wedding.” Sara pursed her lips. “I don't think I have...”

Jess grinned and hugged her again. “Never? But you know what one is, right?”

“Uh huh.” She leaned against her, yawning suddenly. “What does a flower girl do? Do I get to wear a dress-up dress?”

“Do you like to dress up?” Jess had the feeling that Sara was a bit more girly-girl than she first thought. Being raised by two men, she assumed the girl was a bit of a tomboy. 

“Sometimes.” She rubbed her nose. “Tights are awfully itchy.”

“Well, don't worry.” She hugged the girl again. “I wouldn't make you wear something itchy.” She smoothed down the girl's hair. The idea of this all working out – of things actually being normal again, or as normal as possible – and planning a wedding seemed to be a dream. Well, there was no harm in dreaming, was there? “We'll find something.” She closed her eyes “It'll be a lot of fun, you'll see.”

“Are Daddy and Papa going to dress up too?”

“Most likely.” Jess blushed at the thought of seeing Sam in a tuxedo. Oh, did she love that man – and not just because he had to be the single most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. “We'll go dress shopping together.” She smiled, picturing her mother, sister and this little girl all sitting on a couch in some bridal shop somewhere, trying on dress after dress – and then, when she found one, Sara and her sister could have a turn doing the same thing. Afterwords, they'd have lunch, or something... it would be a fun time for all four of them.

Her parents loved Sam. She just hoped they liked the rest of his family as much as she did. 

**

The barn was half-hidden by trees and brush. Sam, Dean and both Gabriels got out of the Impala, with other-Gabriel leading the way to the structure. It was far enough from the road and from any town that hopefully no one would bother them. A light shone from inside the barn and when they came in, Sam and Dean were shocked to find to what had to be the Sam and Dean from other-Gabriel's world, going over something.

“Well, this just got more insane.” Dean said under his breath.

“No kidding.” Sam replied as the other Winchesters looked up at them.

“Shit, I look young.” Other-Dean shook his head. “Then again, you look like a baby, Sammy.”

“Shut up, Dean.” Other-Sam said. 

Sam frowned as he looked at his twin. He wasn't sure how many years were between him and the man across the room, but if he were going to take a guess, it couldn't be more than five. “I don't think I want to know what happened.”

“Makes two of us.” Dean replied. He too, was seriously wondering what had happened to his counterpart – if he were going to judge by the eyes alone, he'd say the age difference was sixty years.

“You get everything set up?” Other-Gabriel walked over to the pair.

“Think so.” Other-Sam looked over at the trio on the other side of the barn. “Remind me again why we're doing this.”

“So someone can live happily ever after. Plus, when we get back home, I'm going on a Horseman Hunt for you so we can also have as happy of an ending as possible.” Other-Gabriel shook his head. “I've already got plans for bitch-slapping Zachariah around for a few decades.”

Other-Dean snorted. “Can we watch for a few hours?”

“Dean!” Other-Sam snapped.

“What?”

Other-Gabriel chuckled. “We'll see big boy.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and turned to Gabriel. “What exactly are we doing here?”

“Ruining Michael's century.” The angel set a hand on Dean's shoulder and glanced over at the other trio. “And to make sure you and your brother don't end up like them.”

“How are we going to do that?” Sam put in quickly. 

Gabriel was about to answer when the doors of the barn blew open and all six occupants turned to see Michael – still wearing the visage of John Winchester, step into view. “Shit, for once, he's early.”

Michael came into the barn and regarded the trio on the far side of the barn with disdain. “You don't belong here.” He snapped his fingers and, to his great surprise, while the other-Winchesters vanished, the other-Gabriel didn't. “Go home.”

Other-Gabriel snorted. “No. You have one of your lackeys drop off a three year old in my toy-box I get to be involved.”

“Gabriel.”

“What?” They both said at the same time.

“You.” Michael turned to his brother in this world. “I told you that no harm would come to you or your child. You should have stayed where you were.”

“Right, because dumping a child into the middle of an Apocalypse is a safe thing to do.” Other-Gabriel interjected. He leaned casually against the table he was standing next to. “You know, there's better ways of getting your daddy's attention.”

“You know _nothing_ of what's happened here.” Michael spat.

“He knows enough.” Gabriel left the Winchesters to go and stand next to his match. “I also know that you've got to be insane if you think the brothers will just accept their destined roles. Of course, given the fact I changed destiny, you'll just have to wait another couple of centuries.”

“Are you defying...” Michael took a step forward and instantly regretted it. In the next second, the ring of holy oil he'd unknowingly entered ignited, trapping him in the flames. “You fool.”

Sam and Dean came over to stand with the two archangels. Dean glared at Michael, reminding himself that Dad was trapped in that body too. “Going to be kind of hard to cause a major earthquake when you're stuck in there.” 

“So it won't be tomorrow.” Michael's eyes narrowed. “It can be next week – this fire can't last forever.” He looked the four of them over. “And you seem to have forgotten that Raphael is just as capable as causing chaos as I am.”

Other-Gabriel snickered. “Yeah, so sure our brother is going to take off and leave Daphne in charge of his Legion while he's gone.”

“Daphne is quite capable of following orders.” Michael said, nonplussed.

“Yes,” Gabriel stated, “but she's also a great lover of humanity. Did you drop Zachariah on his head a few times to turn him into such a dick?”

“Let me out of here, Gabriel. Now.”

“No.” He lifted his chin, glancing at the Winchesters, who seemed to be more or less struck dumb by this whole situation. Not that he could blame them. “Too much has changed for the plan to carry on as originally conceived.”

“That's your fault.” Michael's voice was accusatory and he saw the Winchesters flinch – apparently they'd heard that tone plenty of times from their father. 

“Free Will is a fickle bitch.” Other-Gabriel shook his head. “But it seems to me that if things weren't supposed to be this way, wouldn't something have put the plan back on schedule already?”

Dean cleared his throat. “He's right, you know.”

“And if you weren't such a man slut, things would be as they should.” Michael snarled.

Gabriel nearly lunged across the barn at those words, finding his arms held by other-Gabriel. “Don't call him that – don't ever call him that!” Shingles flew off the roof of the barn at his words and they could hear them exploding into splinters as they did.

“It's okay.” Dean put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, calming the angel. 

“I don't get it.” Sam folded his arms, the intimidation he thought he should feel slowly fading. “You could have stopped this years ago, but you didn't.”

“I couldn't stop it because Gabriel hid your brother.” Michael glanced at Dean. “I didn't know where he was until John Winchester knew where he was.”

“You bastard.” Other-Gabriel growled. “And here I thought _my_ brother was a dick.”

“You mean he's nicer where you live?” Dean snorted. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“I have told you to go home.” Michael's eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. “Now.”

“And I'm telling you to grow up.” Gabriel spat. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Grow up.” Gabriel took a step forward. “The Apocalypse is not happening this decade or even this century. Flawed and fucked up as mankind is, this is the world that Father gave them. There's plenty of good in them – but all you see is the blemish. It's time to grow the fuck up and step back. Or I'll _make_ you step back.”

“You.” Michael snorted. “You couldn't fight me, even with your wings fully healed.” 

“Maybe not...” Gabriel lifted his chin. “But I do know that you can't defeat _two_ of me.” 

The two Gabriels flexed their arms and two almost identical silver blades fell into their hands, both of them clutching the hilts tightly. 

“If you think you can threaten me into giving up my orders...”

“And what orders would those be, Michael?” A fifth voice spoke from behind them and all of them looked to the entrance of the barn. Standing there was a young man, perhaps around Sam's age, with shaggy brown hair, dressed in a pair of jeans, flannel shirt, and combat boots. “I seem to recall there just being _one_ order... which you don't seem to be following.”

Other-Gabriel blinked in surprise. “Well, there's another difference from where I'm from too...”

The man came over and gave other-Gabriel a pat on the cheek. “You run along home now. The Winchesters in your reality are waiting for you.” He smiled. “Have fun storming the castle.”

“I'll try.” Other-Gabriel gave one last glance at Michael before turning his gaze to the Winchesters. “I left something on the kitchen table. It should prove to be useful.” A moment later, he was gone.

The man stepped away from the Winchesters and Gabriel and came to stand on Michael's left, his hands clasped behind his back, standing at military rest. “Michael, what are you orders?”

“To obey the Will, father.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances – they were stuck dumb with the fact that God had just entered the picture.

“And what is the Will... Gabriel?” 

“To love mankind more than you, father.” Gabriel's tone reminded Dean of Sara reciting the alphabet for a stranger who just told her she was cute.

“Very good.” He looked from one angel to the other. “And what do you think of mankind, Gabriel?”

The angel thought for a moment before answering. “Perfect in their imperfections.”

Michael snorted. “They're flawed.”

“So are we.” Gabriel snapped. “It's hard to love something when you have almost no feelings.”

“Stop it.” The man said sharply, and both angels fell silent. “Michael, you are to put John Winchester back where you found him, in the _condition_ you found him in. You are then to return home, tell the legions to stand down – and then you are going to go to your room and stay there until I return,or tell you that you can come out.”

Dean barely hid his snort and Sam slapped him on the arm.

“This is serious.”

“Dude, the archangel just got told to go to his room. I think that's funny.”

“It is kind of funny.” Gabriel said under his breath. 

“As for you....” The man walked over to Gabriel and set a hand on his shoulder. “You need to get back to where you belong. I don't think I need to tell you where that is.”

“Th... thank you, father.” He was suddenly aware that his wings, though hidden, no longer hurt – they were healed. 

“Off you go then.” The man gestured for the door. “You too, Dean – Sam.”

The brothers didn't need to be told twice. As soon as all three of them crossed the threshold of the barn, the doors slammed shut. 

**

Sam woke up to the smell of strong coffee and something baking. He sat up in bed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was in the guest room of Dean and Gabriel's house in Virginia. He and Jess would be going back to California this afternoon. He'd be back in Palo Alto with plenty of time for his interview next week – and, he reflected – as soon as they could plan it, he and Jess were going to get married. He tossed back the covers of the bed and stood up. The clock on the dresser told him it was just after one in the afternoon. Given what had been going on, it was no wonder he'd slept so long. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and opened the door.

Dean had neglected to mention the size of the house he was living in. 

Sam passed the bathroom, keeping quiet in case anyone else was still sleeping. As he passed the second bedroom on his side of the stairs, he glanced into it through the slightly ajar door. And breath left him.

Gabriel was sitting on the floor, wings out and around his brother, who was snoring softly. All Sam could see of his brother were his sock covered feet sticking out from under the wing closest to him. He couldn't even see Sara, but given that this was the girl's room, she had to be in that embrace somewhere. He snapped back to attention when he became aware that the angel was staring at him. Rather than speaking, Sam grasped the doorknob and shut the door the rest of the way. 

“Sam.” Jess's soft voice called up the stairs. 

He turned and came down into the hallway, giving the woman a tight hug. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Coffee's ready.”

“Sounds good.” The two of them went into the kitchen.

**

John Winchester woke up gasping for breath. He was back in that shoddy motel room in Montana, at least, he guessed he was. He sat up, looking around the room. Papers and personal belongings were strewn everywhere as if a hurricane had blown through. He wasn't ready to stand up, not yet. The past few days were hard to recall. Being hauled around by an archangel was indescribable. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to put things together. He could remember Michael saying he would kill Azazel if he said yes. He remembered saying yes. He had a flash of two different barns and a kitchen – but nothing else.

His boys. He had to check on his boys.

John grabbed his cell and hit number four on his contacts. The phone rang twice before it was answered – and it wasn't Dean.

“John.” Gabriel's voice was quiet.

“I need to talk to Dean.” John let out a few sharp breaths. He could remember Michael saying something about his eldest and his granddaughter.

“He's asleep.” The archangel said in that same non-nonsense tone he'd used when they first met. “He and Sara are both fine, they're just sleeping.”

“Would you have him call me?” John was surprised at his own tone. He'd rarely been so – so docile when it came to getting things he wanted.

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“Confused.” Was John's honest reply.

“Take a hot shower, have a good meal since I know you haven't eaten in several days – and Dean should be awake by then. Sam's downstairs – he's fine too.”

John blinked. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” And the line cut off.

He set his cell down and stood up. A shower did sound like a good idea. His stomach growled a moment later, telling him that the second suggestion was an even better one.


	7. Chapter 7

It was August. Gabriel, who was used to time passing quickly, was actually surprised by its appearance. Then again, the past nine months had been insanely busy. When they got settled back at home after the nightmare in November, he and the Winchesters found two thick envelopes on the kitchen table. One addressed to Dean, the other to Sam. Both of them contained letters – which Gabriel hadn't read, and felt that it wasn't his place to do so – along with a list of every hunt the Winchesters went on between the time when Jessica Moore had once been destined to die until the hunt that preceded their trip back to 2005. Four years worth of hunts – and after taking a look at the list, Gabriel was able to eliminate a good chunk of them. He found Azazel's second in command with almost no problems – and a young woman named Meg Masters was saved a horrible fate.

Reading the list of hunts had been painful. That world – that world where Sara had been sent to for just day and a half had been one where his brother's plans were working. John Winchester had gone to Hell. Dean had gone to Hell. Sam had started to go dark-side – and him? There were three mentions of him encountering the brothers, each time as the same monster. 

Gabriel knew that his counterpart was going to do his best to get things back to where they should be – or rather, a better way. He just hoped it would work. There was too much to take in – the list was fifty pages long. Every monster, every contact... it was like a nightmare. The idea of Dean going to Hell horrified him. He knew that was part of Michael and Lucifer's plans, but to find out that it'd actually happened? 

He shook his head to clear it. Today was not a day to be sad. It was a day to celebrate.

It'd been a very long time since he'd been to a wedding. Gabriel supposed that Navy life had turned the Moore Family into quick workers, or something – because it'd been an even longer time since he'd seen a wedding of this caliber pulled together in such a short amount of time. He took out two tuxedos from a garment bag, setting them on the bed, along with an organza dress in two different shades of brown. They reminded him of caramel and root beer. “Have we thanked Jess for not choosing pink as one of her colors yet?”

Dean chuckled as he finished brushing Sara's hair, the girl was still half asleep from her nap. “Well, pink is a bit overdone.” 

“The flowers are pink.” Sara said, yawning. 

“That's because it goes with the dresses.” Gabriel shook his head and came over to take the brush from Dean. “Come on Bug, let's let your daddy get cleaned up and get you ready to go.”

“How come we hafta get there so early?” She got up from the bed and went over to the desk chair. 

“Pictures.” Dean replied as he set the brush on the desk and got a few things from his bag. “Which, from what I've heard, is going to take _forever.”_

“Oh, it won't be that bad.” Gabriel replied and plugged in the curling iron. “Besides, they're taking most of the photos before the wedding – which is a good way to do it. I think the few that are taken afterwords are ones they can't take before.”

Dean knew what Gabriel meant. He headed for the bathroom and paused in the doorway, his eyes crinkling slightly. “I wish my mom was here. She'd have loved this.”

“I know.” Gabriel gave the man an encouraging smile. “I'm just glad we're all here.”

“Me too.” Dean replied and shut the door behind him.

Sara shifted on the chair so she was sitting on her knees. “Papa?”

“Yeah, Bug?” He set down a few bobby pins on the desk, along with a comb. 

“Do you think those people... the ones who looked like you and Daddy.... do you think they're okay?” 

Gabriel separated a lock of her hair with a comb and picked up the curling iron. “I'm sure they are.” Sara hadn't spoken much of what she'd seen in that other world, and neither he or Dean were going to ask her about it. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. This was the first time she'd even mentioned them in four months.

“Everyone there was so sad.” She bit her lip. “I didn't like it that you and daddy didn't get along there.”

“I bet.” He worked with the iron as they both heard the shower kick on in the bathroom. “So there wasn't another you, huh?”

“Nope.” She held still as he pulled the iron from her hair and moved onto another lock. “There wasn't an Aunt Jess there either. I think that's why the Sam there was sad.”

“I bet you're right.” Gabriel sometimes wished his little girl wasn't so observant. It was going to drive many a teacher mad before Sara was out of grade school. “I think they're going to be just fine.”

“How long is the wedding gonna be?” She was off on another subject. Gabriel was glad of that.

“It won't be very long. It'll go by plenty fast.” He moved onto the next lock of hair. 

“There's gonna be cake at the...” She paused, thinking, trying to remember the right word “at the party, right?”

“Lots of food.” Gabriel grinned. “Though no samosas, I checked.”

“I like samosas.” She held still as she felt the heat of the curling iron near her scalp. “What are we having?”

“It's not a big crowd, so we're having a sit down dinner.” Gabriel let the iron go and set it down on the desk. “I believe the three of us are all having beef .” He helped her up from the chair and picked up the dress for her to step into.

“Papa?” Sara slid her arms into the straps of the dress and then stood straight as Gabriel zipped it up.

“What is it, Bug?” He smoothed the few wrinkles out of the dress.

“You and Daddy are married, right?” 

Gabriel smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, we are.” He sat her down on the bed and went to get her shoes.

“Did you and Daddy have a party afterwords?” 

Gabriel shook his head. “No, your daddy hates being the center of attention, so he wouldn't have enjoyed something like that.” This was the truth. Even if he and Dean had been the only ones present. What Gabriel remembered at the end of the bonding ceremony was that Dean had cried. He hadn't been used to someone caring that much about him and be willing to show it. 

“Oh.” She said, quietly. “Was it nice? You and Daddy's wedding?”

He smiled and finished putting her lacy socks to rights before slipping on the dress shoes. “It was very nice.” Given the fact that Sara still didn't know that Dean was technically her mother, he didn't want to go into any details about what had happened. Gabriel was about to speak again when there was a knock at the door. “Ah, looks like we finished just in time.” He walked over to the door and opened it. Mrs. Moore stood there. 

“Hi.” She gave Gabriel a warm smile. “I'm not early, am I?”

“Nope, we just finished.” He grinned. “Sara, time to go hang out with the girls.”

Sara got down from the bed and gave him a quick hug around the legs. “See you soon, Papa. Give Daddy a hug for me?”

“You bet.” He grinned and patted the back of her head. After he closed the door, he turned and went to change his clothes. 

*

Two doors down, Adam Milligan was brushing his teeth. Things in his life had officially gone strange last Thanksgiving. First, Dad came by a week before the holiday and told him and his mom a bunch of stuff that his fifteen year old mind could barely believe. He had two older brothers. Dad had lost his first wife in a fire that wasn't normal. He hadn't gone into a lot of details, and for that, Adam was glad. The three of them had gone to Thanksgiving dinner in Virginia, to his eldest brother's house. There, he met the rest of his family – Dean, Sam, Gabriel, his niece Sara and of course, his soon-to-be sister-in-law, Jessica. 

He spat out a mouthful of toothpaste. “I still don't know why Sam asked me to be in his wedding, I barely know him.”

Kate Milligan looked up from her laptop, where she was working on an email. “I think it's a nice gesture.”

“I'm like, seven years younger than he is!” He rinsed his toothbrush and turned to his mom. “I... I feel weird, that's all.”

“Well, he's not used to being the big brother just as you're not used to be something other than an only child.” She stood up and went over to her son, mussing with his hair, not surprised when he ducked away. “Finish up, we have to go soon.”

“I know.” Adam replied, and went to get dressed.

*

Sam stared into the mirror, wondering how, exactly, his family had suddenly became so damn lucky. His interview, all those months ago at Stanford had been exactly as he wanted it to be – and he'd gotten that full ride to law school. His family was on speaking terms again. Dad had stopped hunting – at least twenty-four seven. Dad was now spending most of his time building cars in Michigan. Dean was finishing up college and had his own interview to transfer from doing desk work at the fire department to becoming a member of arson investigation. Gabriel had taken care of half the hunts that had been on that list they'd found in Dean's kitchen.

He and Jessica were getting married.

Sam smile faltered in the mirror as he thought about what else had been in Dean's kitchen. The letter his other self had written him. He had been a Sam whose dream about Jess burning had come true. He had see his Jessica die. He had gone back to hunting – and it had ended with the world falling apart. Sam only hoped that other-Sam would someday find peace. Find happiness. Find – something better than what there was for him now. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He didn't know what had been in Dean's letter, but if it was even half as terrifying as his had been, he didn't blame Dean for not talking about it. Sam didn't even like thinking about his. He smoothed his hair down, his smile slowly becoming more certain. He remembered the last line of the letter – be happy – and as childish and as silly as that sounded, Sam knew who had written it. Someone who had forgotten how to be happy. 

He hoped that Sam would learn to smile again.

****

Dean didn't know how it'd worked out. He and Sam had been shoved, rather abruptly, back into their world by a Michael who was a much of a pain in the ass as the one they knew. Perhaps more so. When Gabriel came back, somehow the three of them, along with Cas and Bobby, had pulled the plug on the Apocalypse, put Lucifer back into Hell and well – all that ended just yesterday. It wasn't easy, not by any means. It'd been hard – they'd found the demon possessing one of Sam's friends, Brady – and the horseman Pestilence. Taking out Famine had been rough on all of them – Sam lusted for demon blood, Castiel for some reason, wanted hamburgers, and Dean – Dean hadn't wanted to be ignored. Only Gabriel seemed unaffected – and he'd been the one to do in the Horseman. Death hadn't even flinched at the group, he merely handed over his ring and told them not to fuck up. 

And even after all that, after the demons and the monsters and the who knew what all, Dean still couldn't believe he'd missed the fact that his brother and the closest thing he had to a best friend had gotten together. It was February and it was cold and miserable in South Dakota. Dean felt horrible. He sat down on the couch in Bobby's home, the man was off on a hunt with Rufus, leaving the brothers to run the phones, and pathetic as it was, Dean wanted to cry. 

“I don't think it's that pathetic.” A voice said from behind him and Dean jumped.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have a problem with knocking?” 

Gabriel smirked. “Not lately.” The archangel sat down in an empty chair, arms resting on the back, observing him. “You know, for someone who just helped save the world, you sure look pretty miserable.”

Dean leaned against his legs, staring at the floor. “Yeah, well... you're...” He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

The archangel frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Now I have seen everything. Here's the mighty Dean Winchester wallowing in self-pity.”

Dean's head shot up. “Bite me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

In response, the man shook his head and then focused on his hands. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Oh, I thought I better check up on you three.” He moved to sit on the couch. “Guessing Sam and Cas don't want to be disturbed.”

Dean shot him a murderous look. “Excuse me for having issues with their happiness.”

Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “No, no I'm not going to bitch at you for that. I'd be a little pissed too, if it were me.”

The man rubbed his face. “Maybe I should just go hunt something. Get my mind off it.”

“And what are you going to hunt? The demons are all tucking tail and running, most monsters have gone to ground and you can't hunt a werewolf on the new moon.” He folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. 

Dean glared at the angel out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you here?”

“Honestly?” He sighed. “In light of recent events, I figured I should tell you something.”

“Don't get all chick-flick on me, okay? My life is already insane without emo shit in it.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. 

“All those times you died at the Mystery Spot...”

“Yeah?” Anger crept into Dean's voice.

“I didn't kill you. Not once. I killed copies of you. All I needed was a bag of cans.” 

“What?” He stood up, his face going red. “I... I _remember_ dying. The car, the dog, the piano – all of that shit, I remember it!”

Gabriel remained perfectly passive. “You remember that because that's what I wanted you to remember. Do you really think I could gank you time and time again, with a demonic deal over your head and yank you out of Hell each and every time?”

Dean shook his head, confused. “I don't get it, if you didn't kill me, then where the fuck was I after the final time? After the supposed six months?”

Gabriel stood and set his fingers on Dean's forehead. With a flash and a flutter, they vanished from Bobby's house to another room – a well furnished living room. “We were here.”

Dean slowly looked around the room with the high ceiling, everything looking new and well cared for. “Where the hell are we?”

“Fredricksburg.” Gabriel sighed. “Though for the first two weeks of you being here all you did was sleep.” He gave the hunter a worn smile. “You needed rest.”

“And now I'm leaving.” Dean started for the door.

“You misunderstand me, Dean. It was your brother, not you, that needed to learn something at the Mystery Spot. I bought you extra time, even if you don't remember it.”

“You fucked with me and my brother, now I want out of here, now!” He crossed back across the room, wishing he had something to use against the angel. He suddenly stopped short. A sudden thought occurred to him. “How... how long was I here? I know it had to be longer than the six months.”

“It was eight months. That's how long the incident at Mystery Spot went on.”

“Eight months?” Dean grunted. “Great, eight months of me acting like some mindless little dumbass...”

“More like the only vacation you've ever had.” Gabriel moved quickly, grabbing the taller man in his arms and he pressed his hand against where he knew the mark Castiel had left on his body was. Despite the size difference, he knew the hunter couldn't escape from his embrace. _“Remember.”_ He whispered against Dean's ear, _“Remember.”_

Something in Dean's mind clicked. It was like a door had been opened and long buried memories rushed in. He'd been here, with Gabriel. He remembered staying here – worried about Sam the whole time, worried about Lilith, so many worries, but every night Gabriel had told him that both he and Sam were safe and the demon couldn't find them. It was insane, to think that he'd let himself be led along like that – that he never tried to escape. But then he remembered something else – every night, Sam would show up for dinner and in the morning, he'd be gone again. He struggled in the angel's embrace. “Why did you do it? Why?”

Gabriel didn't let go. “I had to.”

“That's not a reason.” Dean growled into the angel's arm.

“Haven't you used it countless times?” He let his shoulders slump. The angel figured he should have known better than to think this would work. “I know you don't want to be here. I'll take you back to South Dakota.” 

“It's not about what you did to me. It's about what you did to Sam.” 

Gabriel could have punched the man. “When the hell are you going go learn it's not always about _Sam?”_

“He's my _brother.”_

“And he's a grown man.” The angel took Dean's head in both of his hands. “I think it's high time someone made it about _you.”_

“And you're volunteering?” The man spat in reply.

“Yes.” With that, Gabriel pressed his lips to Dean's, kissing him softly.

It was the kiss that did it. The kiss made Dean remember everything that had gone on in this house for those eight months. He hadn't wanted to leave, hadn't wanted to go – but for Sam, and for destiny, he had gone. Like some great, stupid fool he'd gone.

“Why didn't you just kill Lilith?” Dean hated to state the obvious, but it seemed that if Gabe had done that, a lot of problems could have been fixed.

“That's a long story.” Gabe pressed another, softer kiss against his forehead.

“Well, I'm willing to bet you've got plenty of popcorn and time.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Extra butter or caramel?”

Dean slowly smiled. “Both.”

****

John stared down at the wedding program, staring at the text at the bottom of the back page. Two people were listed there – Jess's grandfather, _Peter Jacob Moore_ and Sam's mother – _Mary Rebecca Campbell Winchester._ It was odd, seeing her name in print for the first time in – well, ever. He wasn't even paying much attention to the rest of the duty seating that was currently taking place. He sat alone in the front pew of the church. The spot next to him, that should be occupied by Mary, empty. The pew behind him, that should be occupied by his and Mary's parents was also empty. The third pew, however, wasn't empty. 

That was the pew were his brother Keith was sitting, along with his wife and kids. He knew that Kate was sitting next to the isle in that pew as well. She'd stated she didn't feel right sitting in the front pew with him. He looked across the isle to Jess's family, the first two pews full. The gathered assembly wouldn't fill more than six pews on each side, the gilt chairs for the wedding party were lined up along both sides of the altar.

The music changed from some piece by Mozart or Beethoven or something similar and changed to a light, rather happy tune that was vaguely familiar. John set the program down and turned towards the isle to see his youngest son, Adam, looking slightly uncomfortable as he escorted one of Jess's friends from Stanford up the isle. Of course he looked uncomfortable. He was a nearly sixteen year old kid walking next to a twenty-one year old woman. It didn't help that Adam was blushing furiously – his face turned just as red as his father's did when he was embarrassed.

Gabriel came next, with a slightly taller woman than the first – she was Jess's younger sister, and the height difference was the only reason she wasn't walking with Adam. He knew the girl was seventeen and she looked nervous. How Gabriel could look so stoic, he had no idea. Then again, Gabriel was an angel. Stoic was probably a normal way of being for him.

Some friend of Sam's followed, escorted by Jess's brother – from what John understood, the girl was someone from Stanford who Sam met his first year there and and bringing up the rear were Dean and Jess's best friend since childhood. When had Dean grown up? He had expected it with Sam and Adam, but oddly, it was Dean that he failed to notice was growing up. He thought it would have been the youngest, not the oldest that he noticed last. 

Sam came out of a side door of the altar with Pastor Jim, joining the wedding party. 

John took a deep breath as he heard the familiar strains of 'Here Comes the Bride' from the organ in the choir loft. He, along with the rest of the assembly, turned to the back of the church. He kept his focus not on Jess, who was on the arm of her father, who was in his Navy Dress uniform, but on his four and a half year old granddaughter, who kept her gaze locked on the front of the church. The second Sara passed the front pew, she broke her slow stride and ran straight to Dean, hiding her face in the back of his legs. 

That was _definitely_ one of the things he'd remember about this day.

*

Dean adjusted his hold on his sleeping daughter as he and Gabriel headed for the elevators. It didn't seem like the wedding reception would be over any time soon, but Sara was exhausted and the two men knew how cranky the girl got when she didn't get enough sleep. After brunch tomorrow, they would go home. “I think someone had to much cake.”

Gabriel shook his head as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “I think it was the excitement that got her.” He hit the button for their floor. “Either that or all the attention.”

“Well, we all had fun, I know that.” Dean sighed as they started upward. “I'm not sorry it's over... it was not fun making that toast. Particularly since I couldn't mention any of the good stuff.”

The angel snickered and leaned against the side of the elevator, looking out the glass back at the city below. “Knowing you and your brother, that's probably a very good thing.”

“He's a good kid.” The elevator came to a stop and they headed out into the hallway. “It was a nice wedding.”

“One of the best.” Gabriel set a hand on Dean's back as they turned in the corridor, nearing their room. “And that's saying something.”

“How many weddings have you been to, anyway? Or have you lost count?” 

The angel snorted as he held his other hand in front of the knob of their room, the lock disengaging and the door swung open. “Approaching six thousand, I think – some of my friends have gotten married more than once. A couple have been married nearly ten times.”

“You never told me you knew Elizabeth Taylor.” Dean set the dozing Sara down on the larger of the two beds and started to take her shoes and socks off. 

Gabriel took Sara's night shirt out of her bag, glad that her hair had already been taken down. He snapped his fingers softly and the girl's clothes changed and he was now holding the dress and slip rather than the night clothes. “She's only been married seven times – well, eight if you count the fact she married and divorced the same guy twice. And for the record, she once threw one of the best Oscar Parties I've ever attended.”

Dean chuckled. “I'm willing to bet you've been to plenty of good parties in your lifetime.” He pulled back the covers of the small trundle bed Sara was using and picked up Alec from where Sara had set him this afternoon before getting ready for the ceremony. 

Gabriel hung up Sara's dress in the garment bag and put the rest of her clothes in their suitcase. “Yeah, I guess I have.” He stood up and came over to Dean, wrapping his arms around him, resting his head against the man's shoulder. 

Dean slid his own arms around the angel, his fingers slipping into his hair, resting his cheek against the top of Gabriel's head. “Didn't touch a nerve, did I?”

“No.” He smiled. “Just kind of lost in memories, that's all.”

He hugged the angel tighter and kissed him softly. “Good memories, I hope.”

“Wonderful memories. You need to get some sleep as well.” He sighed softly. “Long drive back to Virginia tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Dean gave him another hug. “Sleep sounds good.”

**

Two days before school started, Sara woke up in the middle of the night for a reason she couldn't figure out at first. She got out of bed and was about to head for the bathroom, thinking that she'd just get a drink and put herself back to bed, which always seemed to the best way to get back to sleep after she woke up in the middle of the night for any reason other than the bathroom or a nightmare. As she was about to turn, she saw a light was on in the family room. All thoughts of a drink of water forgotten, she walked over to the railing and looked down into the room. Papa was sitting on the couch, his head bowed. Another man sat in the large easy chair, leaning forward. He was a stranger. She was half tempted to go wake up Daddy, just so she wouldn't have to be alone. A moment later, Papa raised his head and looked up at her. 

“It's all right, Sara-Bug, you can come down here.”

Sara blinked in surprise but turned and headed down the stairs, holding onto the bannister. When she got to the doorway of the family room, Papa held one arm out to her and she went over and sat next to him on the couch. Now that she was level with the stranger, she could get a better look at him. He looked familiar – somehow. He had dark hair and was beardless. It was odd – for a moment, she thought he looked like Paw Paw, but when he turned his head to look at her, he bore a strong resemblance to the man who worked the open grill at the restaurant daddy liked so much. Papa hugged her again before turning his attention back to the man.

“I don't think Castiel knew what he was doing when he agreed to help Michael. Most of the lower angels weren't given details of what the plan was. Or so I assume, as Jeremiah didn't know until I told him.” Gabriel sounded worn. 

“I know.” The man leaned forward again. “I understand why you left, Gabriel. You've always believed that the fighting was pointless.” He looked over at Sara, smiling benignly. “And here you have a reason for staying.” 

The angel nodded in reply. “I – I'm not certain if...”

“I am not going to demand that you return home, Gabriel. I know you, better than you know yourself. Although you can't avoid visiting much longer. I know you left your legion in Jeremiah's capable hands, but every now and then,he could use some help.”

Sara didn't understand what the man was talking about. Who was Jeremiah? What was a legion? And why was this man talking about papa going somewhere? She didn't want papa to go anywhere! She felt the arm around her tighten. 

“It's okay. Bug. I'm not going away any time soon.” 

The man stood up, he was tall – as tall as Uncle Sammy was. “I must go now. There are other matters that I need to attend to.”

“I understand.” Gabriel stood up and, much to Sara's shock, hugged the man tightly. “Thank you.”

The stranger smiled and embraced her papa, smoothing down his hair the same way papa did to her. “You're welcome.” He pulled away and vanished. 

“Papa?” Sara looked up at him, rather scared. “Who was that?”

Gabriel sat back down on the couch and hugged her. “That was my papa. He needed a few questions answered.”

“Oh.” She hugged him back. “Who's Jeremiah?”

“He's a very good friend of mine.”

“Is he a bullfrog?”

Gabriel gave her a stunned look and then realized where she most likely got that idea and laughed. “No, no he's not.” He sighed. “You should get back to bed. It's well past your bedtime.”

Sara yawned and stood up, giving him another hug. “Okay. G'nite, Papa.”

“Good night.” He flicked off the lamp and followed her upstairs, turning to the right at the top of the stairs, while Sara went left. He watched the girl go back to her room, shutting the door almost closed, leaving it slightly open, the way she always did. He sighed and went into his and Dean's room. 

After changing into sleep clothes, he slid into bed and wrapped an arm around the man. “You can stop pretending, I know you're awake.”

Dean turned over and set a hand against his cheek, kissing him softly. “Is that a problem?”

He smiled and kissed him back. “Not at the moment.” He lifted his hand to Dean's face, tracing his features gently. He hadn't let himself notice it before, but even though it'd only been five years, he could see the changes in the man's appearance. Faint and almost unnoticeable, but he knew he couldn't deny it – Dean was getting older. “I think you have a few new freckles.”

Dean chuckled and kissed his palm. “Must be all the sun I've been getting.”

Gabriel rested his forehead against Dean's. “Yeah.”

“Why don't you just tell me what's wrong, Gabe? Rather than pretending things are just fine?” All trace of sleepiness was gone from Dean's voice.

“You're getting older.”

Dean frowned. “I know that – does that bother you?”

“Call it me realizing the fact that you're not immortal.” He sighed. “I know, that sounds terrible...”

“Does it bother you that I'm not immortal?” A hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

“No, Dean...” He pulled the man closer, hugging him. “I wouldn't want you to be – I just, it's something that just occurred to me, that's all.” 

Dean didn't pull away. “Just tell me.”

“Last November I came dangerously close to losing you. Far to close for my comfort. I _don't_ want that to happen again.” He took a deep breath. “I could keep track of you while I was locked up, but I couldn't help you.”

“That wasn't your fault.” Dean interjected, not sure he wanted to know where this conversation was going.

“We're already bonded, Dean. It's a bond that's tied to your mortal life, and given that mortal life is fragile, the bond is the same.”

“So what, exactly are you saying? You want to make the bond stronger, or something?”

“Yes.” Gabriel took a deep breath. “The trouble is, bonding Soul and Grace will be – since the Soul is immortal and so is Grace, there's a good chance that if we did this, you'd be trapped in a mortal body, the age you are now, for a very, very long time.”

“I'd become quasi-immortal as a side affect?” Dean let out a breath. 

“Yes.” The angel held him, closing his eyes. “I shouldn't want this...”

“Let me think about it.” Dean pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “I'm twenty-seven, Gabe – it's not like I'm _that_ old.”

Gabriel tightened his grip, not wanting to believe that Dean would even _consider_ what he'd been trying to ask. “Dean...”

“Ssh.” He snuggled closer to the angel, closing his eyes. “I just need to think about this, okay?”

“Okay.” Gabriel pulled the covers over the two of them, “I need to think about it too.” 

**

Sara was in the middle of helping build a block city at school – an almost weekly event between her and some school friends - when she looked up at the door to her classroom, her face brightening almost instantly. “Paw Paw!” She got up from her half-built tower and ran straight to him.

John Winchester grinned as he picked the girl up in a hug. “Hiya, Button. Daddy told you I was comin' didn't he?” 

“Yup.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he put her down so she could go get her jacket and backpack. After she hurried back and took his hand, waving to her friends, the two of them headed out into the hallway, heading for the front of school. “Daddy said we were gonna have a day out, even though I had to go to school today.”

“That's right.” John waved to the woman in the office, who knew he was picking the girl up and they went outside. “It's a long drive from where I live to here. I needed a few more hours of sleep.”

“Like Daddy used to need when he worked all night?” She held on to his hand.

“Yeah. Guess where we're going?” He grinned as he helped her into the backseat of his truck and buckled her in.

“Um... the park?” She set her bag down on the seat next to her, looking out the window that was much higher than the one in the Impala.

John climbed into the front of the truck and shut the door. “Sort of – we're going to have to take a short trip to get there. On the train.”

Sara's eyes widened in surprise and delight. She knew what getting on the train meant. “We're going to the zoo!?”

John beamed at her in the rear-view mirror. “Uh huh. I packed some food for us to eat on the trip up, and we're going to meet your daddy and papa for dinner.”

Sara grinned and bounced a little in her seat as they headed away from the school. “Have you ever been to the zoo, Paw Paw?”

John's smile faltered, just for a second, “I've not been to the zoo in a very long time, Button. Not since your daddy was your age.” 

“Wow.” She settled back in her seat, to look out the window. “What animals do you wanna see? I always like to see the polar bears. And the tigers – and the pandas and...”

John listened to the girl list off animal after animal, his smile returning. Five years ago, finding out that Dean was involved with something supernatural sent him off the deep end. Now, now he had to wonder how he ever could have thought of his granddaughter as a monster, a _thing_ , an _it._ “Your papa said we were going to have Indian food for dinner. I don't think I've ever eaten that. You going to help me out with what's good?” The girl was still rattling off animals, she obviously hadn't heard his question. He shook his head, smiled and decided he'd ask her again later. 

*  
The room in the basement was semi-dark, the only light came from the open door. Gabriel sat, lotus style on a thick blanket, his back to the door. He didn't think that Dean would actually agree to do what he'd suggested. A human binding themselves to an angel was almost unheard of. He knew that this would change things, make their relationship permanent. The one they currently had would only last the length of Dean's mortal life. After this, Dean would be twenty-seven and would walk the Earth with Gabriel until the angel decided it was time for both of them to leave the mortal coil and go to Heaven. When they got there – well, Gabriel wasn't planning on going back home to Heaven permanently until the turn of the next century, at least. A shadow fell across the beam of light and the angel smiled. “Come in and close the door.”

Dean did as asked and came across the now darkened room and sat down next to Gabriel on the blanket, uncertain of what would happen next. He had thought over what the angel had asked him several weeks ago and kept arriving at the same conclusion. The past five years, despite the complications and the worries, there was no reason for him not to accept. He knew that outwardly, it would seem selfish – but in doing this, he would ensure one thing; he would always be there for Sara, for Sara's children, for Sam and Adam, for Sam and Adam's children and grandchildren – and in all honesty, there really wasn't any other choice. “Dad said he and Sara would meet us at around five for dinner.”

Gabriel chuckled and put an arm around Dean, pulling him a little closer to him. “We have plenty of time.” He kissed his forehead and turned so they were facing each other. He slipped his hands over Dean's and wrapped them around the man's wrists and Dean did the same to him. “You're going to want to close your eyes.”

Dean, who still remembered the time he'd come down here to find Gabriel bathed in light, his wings out, complied. “Is this... going to hurt?” It sounded childish, but the thought just occurred to him.

“No.” Gabriel shifted and set his forehead against Dean's and let out a breath, closing his eyes, letting his breathing fall in synch with the man's. He flexed his shoulders and a moment later his feathered wings unfurled from his back and he raised them so the shadow of them fell over the man. Already he could feel Dean's pulse quicken. “Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not...a... afraid.” Dean managed to get out, the hands over his wrists were no longer warm, but hot. 

Gabriel smiled and then tightened his grip as he released the shadows of his second set of wings, the ones made of lightning, knowing he couldn't release the wings themselves. The shadows were twice the size of the feathered ones. It was after they were out and unfurled that something else happened. At first it was just a sharp jab, but after the initial contact, it became more of a steady push, persistent and almost clingy.

“Wh... what is it?” Dean was confused. He knew that he was still holding onto Gabriel's wrists, but at the same time, he felt like he was trying to climb something insurmountable, like a cliff or something similar. It didn't help that the temperature in the room seemed to have jumped twenty degrees. 

“Don't let go.” Gabriel's voice was raspy and he held onto Dean's wrists tighter. “And whatever you do, don't open your eyes.”

Dean was about to speak again when a rush of heat that swept over him like a gale. It was a good kind of warmth, like the first breeze of spring after a rough winter, a blanket fresh from the dryer...of being in Gabriel's arms. 

Gabriel had let out his third set of wings, the ones of fire. They were half tangible, half shadow. He could tell by the slight change in Dean's breathing that the human sensed something had drastically changed in the room. The persistent feeling was still there and, reaching out with his Grace, Gabriel wrapped the feeling with his Grace and it flared brightly, a glorious shade of off-white, so brilliant and shining, if a human were to see it, it would scald their eyes the way an angel's true form would.

This was Dean's soul. Beautiful, righteous, strong – and, like its owner, stubborn. 

His first set of wings flexed and wrapped completely around Dean, pulling the man almost into his lap. For a fraction of a second, Gabriel thought the man had let go of him, but somehow, he'd managed to grab a hold of him around the shoulders, moving one arm at a time. Gabriel embraced the man tightly, wrapping his physical self around the man just as his Grace wrapped around the man's soul. 

Dean expected to hear a roaring his ears, with all the heat that was in the room, but instead, there was nothing but a gentle breath against his ear, a sensation he knew all to well. It was no different than when the angel held him at night, the way he had embraced him while he was pregnant with Sara, the same soothing voice he could remember from the day Sara was born. 

Gabriel tightened his embrace, if it was possible, and in a flash, he and Dean were no longer in the basement, but lying in their room upstairs, the only wings still out were the first pair. He pressed his lips softly against Dean's, tasting coffee and peppermint. “Dean?” He opened his eyes, setting a hand against the man's cheek.

The man let out a shaky breath, aware that they weren't in the basement any more, but upstairs, in bed. He managed a very weak giggle. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

Gabriel laughed and kissed him again. “Yeah. You can open them.”  
Dean blinked a few times before opening his eyes completely, threading his fingers through Gabriel's hair. “Wow.”

Gabriel gave him a sarcastic look. “That's all you can say, considering what we just did?” He ruffled Dean's hair, tugging at the short locks.

“Sorry, that's about all I can manage right now.” Dean pulled him down for another kiss. He knew that wow was a pretty weak word for what just happened, but well – since he was just short of being rendered speechless, he was proud he'd managed that.

*  
John felt extremely self-conscious as three people, including his four year old granddaughter watched as he picked up the turnover that was one of the famed samosas that were among the favorite foods of said grandchild. It was about the same size as a biscuit from Kentucky Fried, but it was triangular. He took a tentative bite and flavor exploded in his mouth. It was like eating an extremely loaded baked potato with rich spices. He set the turnover down, smiling as he chewed and then swallowed. “That's great.”

Dean chuckled, brushing the crumbs of his own, already-finished, samosa from his fingers. “I never lie about food, Dad.”

John picked up the samosa again, his smile turning into an almost grin. “True.”

Gabriel turned to Sara, who was eating her samosa with a fork. “What all did you see at the zoo, today, Bug?”

“Paw Paw and I saw lots of things!” She set the utensil down, her eyes bright. “The polar bears are still my favorite, there were more there than the last time we were there...” 

As the girl started talking about how fun it had been to watch the large animals swimming underwater, Dean squeezed Gabriel's hand under the table. It was five years ago today that the angel had found him in that run down house in Oklahoma. So much had changed since then, they had been through so much. Gabriel hadn't promised eternal sunshine and good days, he'd promised safety. Dean knew that even that wasn't a given, but the hope for it, was far better than what could have been. He felt the angel squeeze his hand back. 

Gabriel ran his thumb over the back of Dean's hand, listening to Sara talk about the lion cubs she and John had seen in the zoo. He made a note that they should take a trip up to Washington together sometime soon. 

It was time he and Dean started taking their little girl to the Smithsonian.


End file.
